


Little Drop of Poison

by Amazonia_8



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha Sam, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BAMF Dean, Canon-Typical Violence, Come Marking, Devil's Knot, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Human Castiel, Hunter Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Castiel, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rimming, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, True Mates, Violence, the boys wear Armani, yup I made up a sex thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 63,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3902812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amazonia_8/pseuds/Amazonia_8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel doesn't know how to explain what happened to him a year ago, only that something killed his friend and a mysterious Alpha appeared out of the blue to make it all go away.<br/>Now he spends his days running a small holistic health shop in LA, unaware that a looming political decision will throw him back into the path of the stranger he's never been able to forget. But how are they supposed to navigate monsters, conspiracies, violent pasts and family secrets when the only thing their instincts care about is making them mates?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to change things up a bit. Alphas are the minority here and are discriminated against enough that most choose to hide their presentation with suppressant. The traditional dynamic of Alphas mating and dominating Omegas is considered old-fashioned and most modern day marriages are not done between mates.

_Wake up._

_Wake up wake up this isn’t real._

But Castiel had never been able to pull himself out of this particular dream once it got started. Like his mind needed to make sure he relived every terrible moment, like he’d gone too long without feeling the horror and guilt.

Or maybe this was the only way he could remember the Alpha.

This time it started from the beginning, Castiel standing outside the house, staring up at Mrs. Gordon’s silhouette in the upper window. It’s a Wednesday, but he had called that morning to let her know he would be by today instead of tomorrow with groceries. He’d been helping Mabel for nearly a year now, sweet thing all alone who repaid his kindnesses with homemade applesauce overloaded with nutmeg.

Door unlocked, as always, in the kitchen, opening cabinets. He knew where all the groceries went.  But she didn’t come creaking down the stairs, or even call out a welcome. So quiet in here, strangely, thickly quiet. He looked around for the equally elderly dachshund that should be tangling his feet by now begging for affection.

He knows the beats but there are rules. Start from the beginning meant feeling the early prickle of uneasiness before it turned to fear. And it would, his dream self both knowing and, as yet, still unaware.

A soft shuffle sent him drifting into the living room, heavy limbs under water, slowly peering under the coffee table, where the dog was curled beneath it shivering with fright, too scared to even whimper. No amount of coaxing could soothe the animal and Castiel began to feel the cold seep of dread slither down his spine. He looked up at the ceiling, and something stopped him from calling out. She was up there, or someone was up there and this house groaned with every little movement but there was nothing but silence and it pressed down against his eyes and the back of his throat.

At the stairs he paused, and he felt his hands itch for something heavy to hold, some small protection that he tried to tell himself was ridiculous. She was an eighty year old woman and he had seen her in the window but he couldn’t shake this sense that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

With light steps he kept to the far edges of the steps so as not to set off the alarm of groaning wood. The bedroom door was open, there was movement. There was movement and he inched closer.

The dream never let him see the next part moment to moment, just flashes in sequence. Mrs. Gordon lying twisted on the sunny yellow quilt, smeared red-brown with blood and mottled with the purpling viscera. Her two faces. Two faces. One the scream-frozen death mask drawn across her waxen features, milky eyes wide and mouth grotesquely open. The other turning to look at him with clear, furious eyes, blood smeared lips, globs of fat and skin hanging from unnaturally sharp teeth.  The twin even wore a matching dress, which he remembered thinking, above all this horror, the most impossible thing to reconcile as the old woman had recounted on several occasions making it herself.

He didn’t remember the struggle, if he was attacking or defending, but the thing that wore Mrs. Gordon’s body was thrashing against him and he hadn’t ever been able to recall how they made it to the hallway, but they were there and by some providence it was her body and not his own that gravity claimed. She tumbled hard down the stairs and landed with a sickening crunch in a pile at the bottom.

This part was always the longest, the clearest, he’d had whole dreams of just this. Standing at the top step, looking down. She was tucked into the lading at a diagonal belly down, but her head had been folded backwards so that it laid upside down, the back of her skull resting between her shoulder blades so she was looking at him. Staring at him. Breathing ragged through her bloody fangs and watching him. Still alive, still twitching life and testing range of motion and attempting to rise on its broken legs.

Rushing down, leaping over, the heavy weight of the enormous silver mantle cross in his hands and crashing down.

Again. Again.

Blood and bone and choking from the ruined skull beneath him and inhuman grunts in his own voice until there was silence.

And then the Alpha was there, training a gun on him, on her, green eyes looking over all of it with a calm Castiel didn’t understand.

“Are there any more?” A real voice, a human voice that was asking him like he knew what was going on.

“More?” Because the idea couldn’t exist, there couldn’t possibly be more things like this out there in the world. “No. She….she looks like Mabel but she was…..” His eyes trailed up toward the bedroom, and someone was going to have to collect her. Move the body, clean the sheets, cover the gaping wounds that had been chewed into her flesh.

“Listen, this?” The Alpha pulled Castiel to his feet and motioned with his gun hand to the figure beside them. “This was what needed to happen, you did good. You hear me? But it looks like Mabel, right? So I need you to clean off and get out of here. Go home, burn your clothes and have a drink or twelve. I will take care of this. You were never here.”

And the Alpha had smelled so calm and sure, and Castiel let it wash over him for a moment, taking the small comfort gratefully. Then the hand at his arm was squeezing, turning him, pushing him out the door.

And Castiel woke with the same sense of regret. That he never got to say thank you, and that he could never remember the man’s face.

\---

One would think California was a progressive state. Los Angeles and San Francisco loomed so large in the country’s imagination that it was easy to forget the whole huge stretch of land in the middle. And most of America was mildly amused that Prop 328 even made it to the ballot, California was just so _liberal_ there was no way it could pass. Except it wasn’t, not in the way it’s metropolitan centers were. So while the Omega strongholds across the country had already passed similar measures earlier that year, the denizens of Los Angeles had just tutted at their news feeds, because what could you expect from the flyover states, and scrolled down to the story about a highway chase in Florida involving someone’s stolen Burmese python and a naked, unemployed mall Santa.

It was everywhere in the news for months, but you know how these things go, nobody thought it was a real possibility with real consequences until the vote came in. And leaving it to the voting public meant that the only people that showed up at the polls were the elderly and politically paranoid who had been successfully whipped to a frenzy by Naomi Milton and her backers in the Omegas for American Prosperity group. But the moment Castiel heard the words, _Prop 328 has passed by 4,600 votes_ , he’s a thing possessed. Of course, there would be a lawsuit, but he knew better, he had enough insider knowledge to understand the clock was counting down.

It was a witch hunt, he knew that, late night talk shows knew that, the crowd he ran with, but fuck, what the hell year were they living in that a whole section of society could be effectively forced out like this? The OAP, the conservative talking heads, the rich with their security detail and gated homes thought of all of this in the abstract, how could it be anything but a benefit to know just who among the population was an Alpha? They’d been marginalized for decades, slowly bred out of society with the advent of the Timley-Smith test that detected with 97% accuracy the likelihood of a fetus presenting Alpha at puberty. And now those that remained would no longer have access to the one thing offering them a measure of anonymity.

Allerapax hadn’t been the only Alpha suppressant, but it had been the most powerful and back when the only god was money, the lobbying groups played the antitrust courts like a fiddle until it was the only major brand that remained. It could stave off the ruts, both the monthly and Omega induced kind, and it muted the senses that caused Omegas the most concern. An Alpha on Allerapax couldn’t scent the difference between an Omega in full heat and a Beta on a boring Tuesday. The aggression, the possessiveness, the mating desire were all dialed back to such a degree that they were nearly Beta, and that was exactly what Alphas on the drug presented themselves as. And sure some people claimed they had A-dar, but a pile of muscles could just mean a person worked out, an eye-raising bulge could just be some douche stuffing his jeans. And some people were just bossy sons of bitches, Castiel had been accused of as much by anyone that knew him for more than a month.

For people whose livelihoods were on the front lines, it was officially time to panic. Castiel was the poster child for an Omega sympathetic with the plight of the Alpha, his holistic health store sold three versions of herbal suppressant, and he had a personal concoction that mimicked Allerapax so closely without the side effects that he could only sell it to those in the know under the table for fear of the FDA or a lawsuit for breach of patent. But fortune favors the well prepared, and despite everything between them, his mother had at least taught him that. He’d spent every last dime of last month’s profits on building his stores, he stayed up all night for nearly a week straight prepping batch after batch. The only thing he hadn’t anticipated was the swiftness of the verdict.

\---

“And this just in, we have word that a verdict has been reached in Cory vs. the State of California. Prop 328 will be upheld, and furthermore all pharmaceutical grade Alpha suppressant will become illegal to sell in the state of California as of midnight tonight. Back to you Tom.”

Castiel was out the door so fast he almost forgot to put on shoes. Shit there might be riots, small scale sure, but it would get worse once people figured out what this really meant. Fuck, it was actually happening. With the commercial stuff gone, he and other sellers like him would be the only game in town. People would see a the supply cutoff in the pharmaceutical sector as an indicator that _all_ suppressants were banned, which might actually happen now that the OAP had succeeded, and they would freak the fuck out. Alphas would stockpile, then steal, profiteers would do the same just so that they could sell to desperate Alphas on the black market. His shop was a target. He was a target. As he careened down the nighttime street, bleary-eyed and upright only from adrenaline, he prayed and prayed that he could at least make it to the shop before anything was broken. A smashed window was blood in the water and all his work would be for naught if that was the case.

Castiel pulled up to the store twenty minutes later, nerves shot, convinced it would be a looted, burned out shell. But the street was quiet, everything intact. He unlocked the front door and turned on the lights, hustling to the back to unlock the store room. By the time he returned to the counter, a hunched over figure was already lurking at the door. Castiel’s heart skipped, Alphas weren’t prone to violence without cause, and he would make sure they had no cause for such, but it’s still unnerving, an empty street, an empty store and the first pangs of chaos sounding in the public conscious.

“Hey, you need some help?” Nice and calm, soothing voice and no sudden movements. The figure swayed a bit, maybe with indecision.

“You uh, you got all kinds of stuff here right, for like, problems and stuff?” Castiel had bought recreational drugs with more directness than that.

“Come in, you need suppressant?” The figure tripped inside at the word, as if someone might hear and know what he was. “Don’t worry, how much do you need?”

The man was older than he expected, the jeans and hoodie suddenly seeming very out of place on the large frame softened by a middle aged paunch and bald head that pops into view when he removes the hood. It was as if this executive director of sales and marketing had put on his hoodlum costume to go skulking for off brand suppressant in the bad part of town. Castiel almost wanted to laugh but for the fierce tension pulling across the man’s face. This could go either way, he realized, this is a man that would get what he wants, preferably without force, but violence wouldn’t cost him any sleep either.

“A month, or no, two months. How much?” And he can see he’s stealing himself for the gouge.

“How’s this, they’re still $45 each, but I suggest you get three months at least, with all that’s going on it’s going to take me that long just to get the next batch in order. Price will stay the same as long as it does for my suppliers, but if you know of anyone that needs some help you let me know and we can try to work something out.” The man looked him over before handing him the cash and taking the proffered brown paper bag.

“You’re a good man.” And it almost sounds like an accusation.

“I just don’t like what’s happening, they shouldn’t be doing this to you, to any of you.” The man just looked him over again, nodded tersely and turned back out into the night.

Under any other circumstances Castiel might celebrate, he was busier that night than he had been during regular hours all week. Holistic health products not being the most profitable industry, but he’s making cash hand over fist. The steady stream of clients keeps up into the night. Most are nervous, scared they’re doing something illegal buying he wares, but he does his best to sooth their fears, assure them it’s not and he would maintain supply as long as he could, but really he feels that it’s the presence of other Alphas that keep the mood calm. Being an Alpha was something of a dirty secret, but here were all these other people, normal people with normal lives that lived with the same burden. It tugged at Castiel’s heart more than once, to see the kind of camaraderie that could form in a disaster bloom among his customers that night.

By four a.m. it’s finally quiet. Castiel locked the remaining supply in the back, straightened up and closed the shop. He felt good, he’d done well, and that blissful self-congratulation kept him from noticing the group of men across the street tracking his path back to the car.

“It’s Castiel, right?” He looked up in surprise at the face smiling down at him. It’s the middle aged man, his first customer, still in his ridiculous outfit, but this time accompanied by three other, younger men. Castiel looked around nervously, nobody was that friendly at this hour of the morning, and the fact that this man was back, and somehow knew his name sounds off the warning bells in Castiel’s head. He doesn’t really have a shot at running, and something is telling him running would be the best possible option right now. But they’re surrounding him in a casual way that tries to pass itself off as non-threatening. Best to play it cool and see what they want.

“Yes, sir, can I help you?”

The man’s smile was an imitation of kindness that only made his eyes look crazy.

“Why yes you can young man, my friends here are also in need of your product. They hate to be a bother but I’m afraid they just have to insist.” Subtle way of saying they were all Alpha. Castiel fumbled with the keys in his hands, trying to swallow the building panic.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve closed for the night. You can come back tomorrow morning, we open at nine.”

“Well that won’t do.” And Castiel doesn’t see the punch that hits him, it’s the ones you don’t see coming that knock you out the flattest, so going from standing to curled on the cement in the space of a breath is a bit of a surprise. But having four older brothers has taught him a few things, one of which being how to take a punch and keep on swinging. Keep moving, the pain wasn’t going to wait for you to cope and if these men were anything like his brothers, neither would your attackers. So up and at em’, fear does wonders at masking pain. Castiel was under no delusion that he has enough skill to take out all of them, as lovely as that sounds, his best strategy was maintain distance, create a whirling snarling cyclone of fists and teeth and knees so that it’s impossible to pin him. Don’t let them take you to another location, that’s death. Don’t let it get to the ground, all fights end on the ground and being outnumbered meant that would also be death. Just keep them back.

That’s all he can think of as he feels his knuckles connect and split skin and be split open in turn, he bites something soft until it gushes, head butts a nose, slams a foot on an instep, uses every dirty trick in the book and thanks Gabriel for all those times he had refused to play fair. His muscles burn and he realized the adrenaline dump would only last a little longer and after that his limbs would turn to jelly. But they weren’t giving him an opening, so when something that’s either a shinbone or a baseball bat connected with his side, it snapped the last thread of fight in him and he crumpled in a heap. They’re cursing at him, and if the way his body jerked against the rough scrape ground is anything to go on, kicking him too. There’s a hand in his hair, yanking him up like a marionette. _Zachariah, Zachariah_ , someone’s yelling. Then he’s being dragged, pause, dragged some more. He knows this place, this is his store. The shelves at this level could use a dusting he thinks through the haze. Alphie was small enough, he’d get him to take care of that tomorrow. They were stopped now and resume kicking him while one of them worked on the store room lock. _Get the register_ , and it’s such a pity since he won’t make payroll without it.

And then everything went silent, and for a moment Castiel wondered if they’ve beaten him deaf. But no, they’re just frozen, and he can feel the crackle of tension arresting all four men dance along his own skin.

There’s someone else here.

Castiel can smell him before he can see him, it‘s wood smoke and leather and an unidentified sub-current opening his sinuses with a singing sensation that brings his vision a little sharper into focus.

The figure stood squarely in the shadow of the aisle leading to the front door, hands at his sides and while his posture seemed relaxed, the scent of him was screaming at Castiel. _Alpha Alpha rip tear fight_. The others can smell it too, the younger men beginning to edge in to the threat, the older one, _Zachariah_ , holding them off with a gesture.

“Well hello there son, looks like we’re all after the same thing, right? This little Omega bitch has been stockpiling and we were just of a mind to relieve him of his ill-gotten gains, redistribute the supply to those that really need it. Like yourself I assume.” There’s that lilting spark of crazy in his voice as he tried to pull the intruder in with knowing pleasantries.

“So what, you’re Robin Hood and his merry band of dickheads?” The voice low and even, the humor in it just biting enough to indicate this man hasn’t an ounce of fear of them. Castiel laughed through the sting of a split lip, partially at the man’s joke, partially at the thought that Google maps must have lead every crazy Alpha in town right to his door. He had been propped up on his hands on the ground, but a swift crack to the temple took care of that, his head bouncing off the floor when it connected and punching out an aborted cry. There was a growl to his left, Alpha’s still growl?  It seemed like such an antiquated thing.

“You touch him again and I’ll open you up like a birthday present.” Castiel was dizzy, the edges of his vision pulsing grey and black, which upset him only because he didn’t want to pass out before he got to see this new guy make good on his threat.

These assholes were in the shit now that his Alpha was here.

That’s a strange thought, he’s coherent enough to recognize that. Thinking it was strange was also strange for some reason, he wondered if he had a concussion. He’s not afraid, though he‘s pretty much certain he was going to die tonight. That’s not good, right? You’re supposed to be afraid of dying because it helps you do things to not die. But he feels calm. He thinks of his brothers and a game they used to play when they were kids, coolest way to croak. He would win for life, well for their lives at least, Gabriel would be so jealous. Torn apart by Alphas, what could beat that? Maybe sharks.

Noises, thumping and smack of skin, grunts, howls, cries of pain. Castiel pushed himself back up. It’s all shadow and blur, and he can’t pick out who’s who but the injuries are being announced in different voices so the new guy must be giving it back to them pretty hard. One of them falls by Castiel’s side, the wet-metal tang of the man’s blood and fear heavy enough that Castiel can almost taste it on the back of his tongue. They had all forgotten him down here, so when the firefly wink of streetlight hit the blade of the man’s knife as it’s pulled from a pocket, Castiel never considered for a moment that it was meant for him. The man is up, but somehow some primal impulse in Castiel is quicker. His arm snaking low along the ground to grab the hem of his jeans, and the man goes down hard at the unexpected hindrance. Most of his body was cold numb, so it had to be crawling with his few remaining functional parts up the prone figure. The knife was in his hand before he thinks to look for it. The man beneath him still a bit dazed so it’s easy-calm when Castiel placed the point to his chosen spot and pushed smoothly into an armpit. He’d once heard it was a very painful place to get stabbed. Huh, that had been so simple, the blade just went right in there like he’d stuck it into ice-cream, and the man hadn’t even fought him, just clenched up, face twisted, mouth a silent O. Castiel blinked up at his rescuer and got a solid lock on a set of brilliant green eyes blazing savage that never waver even as he snapped someone’s elbow in the wrong direction.

A spark pops in his brain, recognition… or déjà vu. Suddenly it’s too much, having intensity like that directed at him, the Alpha staring and Castiel unable to look away until his head is swimming and he thinks he may be sick because his hands still feel the phantom sensation of plunging the knife into welcoming flesh. There’s another figure now, light shining off a bald head looming behind the Alpha and he’s still staring at Castiel, doesn’t see it, Castiel just manages to rasp out _behind you_ before slipping into blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

The equation had always worked out before.

Strange bed + skull splitting headache + naked always equaled the same thing, math is math.

Something sure smelled like sex, or sex adjacent since it was lacking in a few particular base notes. But there’s old sweat and booze and _male_. Eyes still shut, Castiel scrunched his brow together as it’s the only part of him that appeared to be working. His tongue was thick, stuck to the inside surface of his mouth, fingers and toes cold, stomach ravenously empty yet nauseous, and that little niggling voice telling him that his current position was the only one keeping him pain free. Move one molecule and the hangover starting gun would fire. But his sense of smell was working just fine, better than fine. When was the last time he’d been so tuned in like this? Puberty, he thinks, when everything was assaultive and anything solid with a couple inches on it found its way up his ass. Shit _something_ was sure as hell trying to get his dick’s attention. It was….

_AlphaAlphaAlpha_.

No, not just an Alpha, shit an actual real all natural capital A Alpha. Fucking hell nobody smelled like that anymore, it was almost rude.

Castiel inhaled deeper, and Christ that’s a huge mistake. His ribs scream and suddenly everything else decided to join in the party. His breath comes back shaky, nerves sensitive, meaning damage. He wasn’t hung over, he was genuinely injured. A whimper escaped that would be embarrassing if it wasn’t just exactly the noise suited to this feeling. The mattress beneath him dipped and suddenly that Alpha scent was right there like a balm, soothing and protective. He turned to it, reaching blindly and finding soft flannel covering the hard length of an arm.

“Hey, easy now. Try not to move too much.” Castiel managed to pry his eyes open enough to know that light hates him and he’ll have to live in darkness from now on like a vampire. He groaned again, then felt something small and firm pressed to his lips, past them. He’d protest if anything was working. “Try to take a sip.” Oh, a straw. His tongue was a lazy bloated slug but he managed to force it into enough of a motion that several draughts of water make it down his throat. Holy shit, water was _amazing_ , do other people know about this stuff? After another moment he tried again to open his eyes, this time managing to fight through the sting until they’re accustomed to the brightness. He looked up at the Alpha and the events of last night tackle him in a rush. Jumped, beaten, robbed, rescued, blacked-out and now here he is…..where the fuck is he?

The room was dated and sterile, musty with the underlying imprint of countless strangers.  The very cheapest motel money could buy. Before he could assess this new situation, another wave of that stronger scent hits him square in the chest. This one full and clean, sliding down his throat like a perfect briny oyster until he wanted to purr. And suddenly he can’t remember that anything ever hurt because when his vision comes properly into focus, the sheer brain melting hotness of the man next to him overrides his nerve endings like morphine and his first thought is entirely inappropriate.

Nurse I’m going to need 20 ccs of this man’s cock in my mouth stat.

His second though it that he has green eyes. And a wide warm hand on his shoulder, and he could never remember those full lips but he can remember them now.

He can remember now.

“It’s you… you’re my hero.”

_Hero Castiel? Really?_ God, he sounded idiotic. But it was true, he was here and this wasn’t a dream because those had never changed, not once. There was no silent stairwell here, no twisted broken thing staring at him with an old woman’s blood in its mouth.  Just Castiel lying on a lumpy mattress, staring at the Alpha he’d been dreaming of for the last year or so and making a fool of himself. But the man just chuckled softly.

“I think you might be mine too, that dumpy fucker almost got the drop on me.”  He leaned down to whisper with a resolve that sent a shiver down Castiel’s spine. “But you don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“You…. killed them?” The man gut laughed now, shaking the bed, and Castiel whimpered at the discomfort of being jostled.

“Oh! Sorry man!” And the Alpha brushed surprisingly gentle fingers over a spot on Castiel’s forehead that must be lacerated judging from the sting. “I should have…” he muttered, then pulled back sharply at his own moment of intimacy. Castiel didn’t know what to make of it but he wanted more. The man tried to cover with joking bravado. “Cause, you know, _they drew first blood, not me_! Eh, but I let ‘em live, they’re probably locked up at the nearest precinct by now.”

“You’re—you’re bleeding?” And his body tells him it’s a terrible idea but he struggled to sit up anyway, the Alpha too confused to stop him.

“What? No! First blood….you know Rambo?”

“That’s a…movie right?” Embarrassed because he’s always teased about his lack of interest in popular entertainment.

“Wow man, that’s just depressing.” But he’s laughing in a way that doesn’t make Castiel feel bad, has him chuckling a bit himself. But now that he’s made it to sitting he realized there’s a bandage on his hand and a pulling sensation at the skin of his side. Without thinking Castiel pulled back the covers to see angry red welts, scratched bruises and a white patch of gauze over his right side held in place with medical tape. There’s a waft of antiseptic scent that billows up when he opens the covers. The man had cleaned and dressed his wounds, rather skillfully now that he’s looking at it. And he can’t possibly figure out why, but this fact took him from zero to hard in half a second.

Blanket snatched back and suddenly reality hit him like it walked into the room dressed as a Vegas showgirl.

This was a motel room. He’s a _naked_ Omega sitting alone next to a strange Alpha. No one knows where he is. _Also he’s_ _naked_.

Shit this was bad, and, maddeningly enough, the whole scenario was _turning him on,_ which had the totally natural and _unwanted_ effect of kicking in his Omega instincts. He could feel the catch of the small hairs in the cleft of his ass as a slow trickle of slick seeps out. The Alpha’s scent is thrumming around him and he wants to rub his face in the joint of that tan neck, stretch out across his denim clad thighs and present himself right in the man’s lap. And suddenly the lull goes from amiable to awkward as Castiel dares to look up, sees the glaze form in green eyes, sees the muscles of a broad set of shoulders bunch minutely, feels the air displaced against his too hot skin as the solid mass of Alpha beside him became both subtly and primaly larger.

The Alpha could smell him, his arousal.

Fuck, Castiel was every cliché in every stupid soap ever. Wounded, vulnerable, slutty Omega at the mercy of the big dick swinging Alpha that just rescued him single handed from a certain death. But those shows were bullshit because they always ended the same way, soft lights fade to black, evil Beta twin tries to seduce the Alpha away but gets caught right before he mates the wrong lover. Happily ever after till sweeps week.

But this was real life Castiel, and you’re about to get knotted in a shitty motel with the grime of a hundred other occupants rubbing into your face as this stranger fucks your half broken body.

Clutching the covers he edged back against the headboard.

“Where are my clothes?” It came out smaller and more frightened than he intended because dammit he was a grown man. He knew what his face must look like, couldn’t stop the wide-eyed fear, couldn’t slow the rapid breaths, can’t move anywhere else with the headboard at his back and this Alpha two heartbeats away from going into full on rut. It didn’t seem fair, that in less than twenty-four hours he’s been thrown into two situations where he has no real chance of winning. But then, just like last night, (just like before) the Alpha comes to his rescue.

The man visibly deflated as some of Castiel’s fear is mirrored in his own face. His scent became softer, hard blood-rich edges smoothed over with coolness, crushed pine and cold water. He backed up and off the bed so fast he knocked into the table, cursing as he rights himself. With a few efficient movements, he grabbed the folded pile of Castiel’s clothes where they’d been sitting on the dresser, placed them at the foot of the bed, scooped up his keys and stood with his hand on the doorknob.

“You…uhhh…you hungry? I was gonna get lunch. Anything you can’t eat, peanuts or strawberries or something? You’re not a vegetarian are you?” Castiel just shakes a mute no, too stunned by the quick change of mood to politely decline.

Traffic humming outside, someone in the next room coughing, but a dust settle silence in the bubble of this room. Half empty smudged glass on the table, duffle bag in the corner on the floor. One bed, one chair pulled up close, one black canvas kit half zipped on the nightstand. He can’t help himself, scooting over to pull the pouch into his lap, riffle through the only clue he has about this scary sexy Alpha that’s maybe a little bit kidnapped him. Too soon to tell.

Razor, mini shampoo from a different motel, unopened mini soap from still another. Bandages, scissors, fishing wire, superglue, small curved needles in a swatch of black cloth. Rubbing alcohol, mini-bar bourbon, three lighters and smooth piece of barely green sea glass.

It’s a struggle, but he managed to get on his pants, fingers of his right hand almost immobile from gauze and pain. The true measure of his injuries sound off in inches, drag of unkind denim, tug of crushed capillaries under the stretch of moving skin. By the third try he had his shirt over his head and one arm in but was left panting and sweating and unable to catch enough breath to manage the other one. He’d planned on being out the door by this point, but the prospect of even getting on shoes now seemed all but impossible.

This was…… he should not be expected to handle this right now. Did not want to consider why, at the two most violent, most terrifying moments of his life, this stranger had just appeared out of nowhere to save him. It had to _mean_ something, things like that don’t just happen. In a quicksilver flash of memory he can hear it, the snick-chip sound of that thing’s teeth as it worried the meat from the bone wearing Mabel’s wrinkled face. Then the foggy presence of the Alpha standing close to him, barely touching but sliding a piece of himself between the muscle and skin until lust overcomes the horror and _that shouldn’t happen_.

When the rumble and sigh of a car parking just outside the door sounded, he turned a bit too quickly, groaning at the pain but managing to throw the covers back over the bed, hiding the small damp circle of slick from view but not from scent.

That much is clear the moment the Alpha walked through the door. Step hitching, nostrils flaring and Castiel wondered if he shouldn’t have just walked out without his shoes, gone to the lobby and called a cab in a public place. Why did these ideas only come after the fact? But the Alpha took one look at him, slumped at the end of the bed panting from exertion, one arm bare and helpless, and dissolved into concern.

“What did you do?” And it’s a soft accusation, but firm one. The bags of food are dumped on the table and in the next moment the man is kneeling on the floor in front of Castiel, examining fingers tracing a line of red that has bled through the gauze. “Lie down.” There’s just enough Alpha edge to the words to have Castiel shifting into place without protest. The man opened his kit then rummaged up a second from his bag, leaving Castiel enough time to come up with other combinations of words that would sound good in that smooth drawl with a little sisal rope sting of authority. _Lie down, roll over, on your knees, beg me take it say my name…_

“What’s your name?”

The Alpha gave him a careful look as he sat down in the chair next to the bed. “Dean.”

It doesn’t go unnoticed that he didn’t offer a last name. “I’m Castiel.”

Dean laid out a crisp packet of gauze, tape, butterfly bandages. “I know, got a hell of a name there Cas.” He tore open another small packet, wiped strong smelling orange-brown liquid on his hands that did wonders covering up the fading scent of saccharine slick cut with the warm bitter leather of Dean. Finally the words sink in. “Looked at your license.”

He held the bloodied gauze still with barely-there pressure while gently peeling back the four strips of tape. Castiel watched him work propped up on his elbows. The gash was a mutiny of colors, all of them angry under the false flesh color of the butterfly bandages. He thinks it just at Dean says it.

“You’re gonna need stiches.” He sighs, as if this fact is a major inconvenience. Not thwarting a robbery single handed, not apparently dragging an unconscious man back to his motel room, (and Castiel wondered for a moment if he checked in before or after his rescue) not performing some spooky excellent field dressing with the contents of a toiletry kit. Stitches. Wonder why he didn’t just do those himself too. Castiel had a feeling that he could.

With quick fingers that do their best not to add to Castiel’s discomfort, Dean had him patched up again and helped, with the least amount of touching possible, to get him fully dressed including his shoes.

“Ok, look. I’m uuhh….last night, I couldn’t just leave you there with those assholes…”

“Why didn’t you call the cops?” This had the Alpha flinching and it’s no hard task to figure out why. He’s actually surprised Dean decides to be honest with him.

“I can’t….I mean, _I did_ , afterwards, but me an’ cops don’t mix, let’s just say that. And I wanted to take you to the hospital and all, but it seems shit got a little crazy last night, place was crawling with them.”

“So you stuffed me in the back of your car to play doctor in a motel room?”

And the minute the words are out of his mouth Castiel realized that this man doesn’t know him well enough to understand that this isn’t an accusation, as much as it sounds like one. He’s always been a little tactless, cutting right through conversational customs to get at what he’s after. The effect is visible, the Alpha riled up and indignant, though what he’d said had been true. But there’s something tempering the instinct to snap back, defend himself if there was a logical argument of defense. Taking into consideration the fact that so far Dean had done nothing to harm him, had been taking care of him, albeit with rather sketchy methods, Castiel decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He smiled at Dean, no hard feelings. The Alpha seemed relieved. He sighed, the tension rushing out with punctuating smirk, and if that sight squeezed at the Omega’s heart in a brief flash, well the Alpha didn’t need to know.

“Yeah, sorry about all this. See I drove into town last night for my brother, he’s Alpha too and when he heard about all this business about banning suppressants, well he’s not someone that can afford to just come out like that. He was stuck at work but asked me to find a holistic shop that might have something because he’s a giant hippie girl. Yours was the first one I came to, and lucky thing I guess.” He sat on the bed now, a careful distance but it still sent a rush of that Alpha scent Castiel’s way. It’d been years since he’s smelled the real thing. Well, one year if he was being honest.

People scrubbed themselves raw trying to get rid of it, suppressed it with drugs and then, for reasons he’d never understood, doused themselves in synthetic musk. Betas mostly, even the odd Omega who wanted to be edgy, but the cologne versions were notably fake. Maybe that was the point, the idea of an Alpha that could be worn as an accessory. But this real scent was potent stuff, it was food and fucking and a warm bed on a cold day, the base element to the acid sugar sing of Omega that rose above everything in life until you couldn’t smell it anymore. He’d forgotten the exact composition of Dean’s scent but not what it did to him, how full and _right_ it made him feel. It was the thing he’d held onto after…. the incident… that kept him sane. The security, the comfort of the Alpha when he gathered Castiel up and told him he would make it all go away. But he didn’t want to think about that now, Dean hadn’t said anything, maybe he didn’t recognize him.

Castiel felt himself edge in closer with the excuse of conversation, but really he just wanted to get at that scent.

“Very lucky I’d say. Did you take what you needed?” And again he realized this dry bluntness could very easily be taken for sarcasm, but Dean seemed to be picking up on this quirk. He blushed this time and damn if Castiel didn’t notice before that the man had freckles. This struck him as funny for some odd reason so he let that amusement carry into his conversation. “It’s ok, I don’t mind.”

“I only took three boxes and I can pay for them right now if you like, I just figured…”

“Dean, I think saving me from a band of looters entitles you to a few boxes of suppressant on the house.”

“Thanks Cas.” He’s bashful and sweet, all lashes and licked lips and for a moment it’s difficult to reconcile the ferocity of him last night with the person sitting here now. “I gotta..…can I ask you for one more thing though?” And it was a damn shame every part of him was hurting so bad right now, cause there were more than a few things Castiel wanted to offer him.

“I can’t…if you could….I wasn’t there last night.”

If Dean is surprised at how easy Castiel takes the news, he didn’t show it.

“Sure alright, but if the authorities have them, they’ll be questioned, and somebody sure as hell took them apart. What am I supposed to say?”

“Say it was dark, you were hurt, say it was anyone you like. Just not me.”

“Ok. I can do that.”

There’s satisfaction in the following silence, Dean would be safe, from whichever law was being held over his head, and Castiel could feel the debt was paid. Not the offer of a blow job he’d like to give him, but his lip was three sizes too big under the stripe of a split anyway so….

“I’m taking you to the hospital in a few, Sammy’s gonna call me when he has a chance to slip away. He’s a doctor there, he’ll make sure they take good care of you.”

“Sam is your….  mate?”

“No! Bother! The uuh… the Alpha.”  Dean beamed with pride now, “Super smart too, he’s like MVP in that place, but nobody would care about all the good he’s done if they found out.” Castiel could understand, nowadays it was common practice to pass over Alphas for positions that required delicacy, care, a cool head under pressure. It was the kind of unconscious bigotry that hadn’t quite worked itself out of public acceptance yet, big dumb Alpha, no way there was a decent functioning brain up there.

They looked at each other for a long minute, Dean chewing at a lip as if there’s more he’d like to say, but just then a cell rings and Dean stood to retrieve it from his pocket, the moment gone.

“Hey… yeah. Ok sure, see you then.” He turned back to Cas. “Sam’s gonna meet us at a side entrance in forty minutes so eat something first cause I hear the food is crap.”

\---

Over slightly cold fast food they got the story straight, there was the robbery, some kind of fight broke out and in the confusion Castiel managed to make it out the back door where he passed out. When he woke, a good Samaritan took him to the hospital, but he was too out of it to get a name. Sam was going to back this story up, say he went back to look for the person that had brought Castiel in but they were gone.

The conversation lulled. Dean finished his food first and attempted a stealth attack on Castiel’s fries. The Omega was quick, but suffered minor losses to his left flank. It was oddly nice, if he didn’t think too hard about how they’d come to this moment. And that’s when Castiel realized this might be it.

“Dean, I would like to thank you. Formally. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”

Dean looked him over with the confliction of earlier.

“Cas- “

“I remember you.”

And there it was. No taking it back now. No pretending it was a hallucination like he had the first two months, or a murder whose details he had jumbled up somehow like he’d told himself the next four.

“You do.” There was so much mistrust there, a sudden hard stop to the fragile pleasantness of before. “What do you remember?”

Castiel stared at Dean, if he was crazy, if any of this was a product of his own imagination he needed to see it in the Alpha’s face.

“Mabel’s body, and the thing ea-eating her. The thing that looked like her. I remember you appearing like an angel-“

Dean snorted at that but his eyes remained suspicious. He could smell the Alpha’s uneasiness, lemon and yeast, but it didn’t put Castiel off like it would with most Alphas. It made him want to soothe the Alpha, rub his cheek against the man’s chest.

“I remember you didn’t think I’d killed her. That you said you’d take care of it. And you did, didn’t you? No one ever questioned me. No one ever found anything at all and the police only reported her missing when a neighbor found her dog whining and scratching at the window. They thought she’d wandered off in a fit of dementia and are still expecting to find her body in a ditch somewhere.”

Dean didn’t say anything, leaned back in his chair and raked his gaze over Castiel’s body. It was so hot in the room suddenly. Air too stuffy to breath.

“Her own daughter didn’t even question it. Mabel didn’t have dementia but nobody seemed to care and I couldn’t say anything. Her neighbor found the open bag of dog food and the mixing bowl of water on the floor.”

Dean just shrugged, “Maybe the old lady had dementia after all.”

But Castiel knew the truth.

“Thank you. For that, too.”

\---

The ride to the hospital was agonizing, and not just because of the injuries. Dean had needed to help him to the car, strong arm around his torso, encouraging words in his ear, and if Castiel leaned a little closer into that warmth, splayed his fingers along the flexing muscle of those firm shoulders a little wider to touch as much as he could, who could blame him? Pressing up against Dean just felt so _good_. But inside the cab of the car, things got rapidly worse. It was ridiculous how much he was sweating from the exertion of walking a few yards to the car, but he felt like he was on fire. The car reeked of Dean, ingrained in the leather seats and coming out of the air vents, and with the source right there, not even a console in this vintage boat to offer a little barrier between them, Castiel was horrified to notice that under the heartbeat pulse of his own distressed scent of Omega in pain were the gathering filaments of arousal threading out from his core. Fuck this hospital better be close because he didn’t know how much longer he could clench his ass in an effort to hold back the slick threatening to soak him. He didn’t dare look Dean in the face, but the sight of those large hands gripping the wheel, knuckles white, told him all he needed to know. He shut his eyes, screwed them up tight and did his best to stay silent under the mounting terror that this attraction was getting wildly out of hand and the Alpha was doing his best not to react. Was there no possible fucking way for him to catch a break?

By the time they skidded into the side curb, Castiel could no longer hold back the little sobs breaking from his throat. The door beside him was yanked open and now two sets of hands were guiding him into a wheelchair.

“Shit! Dean, you didn’t tell me he was in heat!”

“You think I would have declined to mention that earlier if that was the case?! This just happened!” Cas wanted to grind his hips down on something but everything hurt, any spot that had escaped pain before was now on fire.

“Ok look, it’s going to take a little while to get a heat room set up, I’m going to have to sedate him.” Now there was a man, kneeling in front of Castiel but still taller somehow, he must be huge. His eyes were pried wider and hit with a blast of bright light. There were hands prodding moans from him as they hit various spots, not all of the sounds from pain. A large palm pressed into his abdomen, why couldn’t it just go lower? That’s where he really needed the pressure. Gasping, head thrown back, a hand that large and strong would feel amazing wrapped around his throbbing cock, even better to see how many fingers he could take in his slick hole before he’s coming. Fuck he needed to come. His thoughts were slipping past each other, coated in the same lust-slick pooling under his thighs, trying to hacking through a fog that kept sealing over, living vapor robbing him of the reasons not to wriggle and pant, anything to get one of these Alphas to notice his pain.

“ _Alpha,_ ” He wanted the one that smelled of leather and char and bright green things pushing through wet earth but he’ll take anything now. It’s instinct provoking the two Alphas into competition, and the jagged rumble growl he gets in return sent a sing of pleasure down his spine.

“You need to get ahold of yourself!” The large one’s twisting, glaring over a shoulder, not talking to Castiel then. Another wave hit him hard, molten iron through his veins, blistering up through his skin and the only thing that will cool it is the puncture of teeth, let the steam hiss from his body, pulse out in time with a heavy cock thrusting into him, swelling into perfection. This is insanity, he feels insane, why can’t he focus? And that brief thought on something other than his wanting gives him just enough clarity to evaluate beyond instinct. He’s off his cycle. He groaned low and needy, he can’t do this now, not here. Then he sees Dean, hovering over the tall man’s shoulders, trying to muscle past him, saying something…saying his name.

“ _Deeean_!” He pleads, because he needed help, Dean had to help him. The men were arguing, but quietly. Or no, the taller one, Sam, was arguing, holding onto Dean, pulling him back. Why would he do that? He needs Dean closer not farther away, how was he to help him with this burning if he was over there, miles away though it’s only a few feet.  
“Just wait here, _wait_. Don’t do anything stupid. I’m coming right back.” This chair was killing him, all the angles it put him in wrong. He tried to stretch out, it felt good for the heat but lousy on everything else, he doesn’t know which pain is worse. But now Dean was the one kneeling in front of him, running firm hands up his thighs, hushing him, his scent hot and panicked and demanding.

_Needwanttake_. Castiel can’t tell if it’s the message of the Alpha scent or the pleas of his own body.

“ _Please Dean please_.” It doesn’t even sound like his own voice.

“I got you Cas, I’m here. You just gotta breath, ok? Just hang in there.” Dean stroked careful hands over his arms, thighs, chest, anywhere he can reach and it helps take a bit of the sting out of the heat but not the ache. Fuck it’s so deep, nothing can ever fill it, so empty. Cavernous, starving.

“No, I need you inside me Dean, _fuck me_ , fill me Alpha, make it feel better. Want your cock in my mouth want your knot in me so big till I scream and come and you could make me come so hard and please I’m so slick for you so wet you could fuck me right now and feel it run down your thighs and make me take your knot so good…” He’s babbling, and part of him knows it but he didn’t even feel the words as they fell from his mouth. Heat was hell on a man’s filters.

“Jesus Cas.” Dean clenched the armrests of the wheelchair, eyes shut tight with a look of agony as he scented Cas, nosed at his neck, across his chest, down his stomach. He’s shaking with the effort not to taste, not to touch because anything after this moment won’t be gentle, his Alpha holding on by a thread.

“Dean, you need to back off.” The Sam person was back, making his Alpha go again, moving into place in front of him and speaking to him in a calm soothing voice. But who the fuck knows what he’s saying when the heat screams for release and the only sound was his own wordless begging cries ringing through his ears. Everything is sharp edged, so it’s not the needle he felt but the foreign coldness in his thigh, thick under the skin and bleeding out into his veins. And suddenly everything’s melting, voices too, because Dean’s saying something and it’s too low to hear. Colors wane out in time with his spine decompressing and then there’s nothing and nothing is a blessing.


	3. Chapter 3

Priorities simplify after trauma. With a brain that was slowly coming back online, Castiel didn’t need to worry about anything but one simple task after another. First was seeing. I see a dim room in faded pastels, I see pinpricks of light from machines that hum and whir softly. Now it’s feeling, or the lack of feeling. He was sunk in a heavy warm vapor that sucked his limbs down and soaked his brain. Drugs, beautiful, wonderful drugs. The only thing the drugs didn’t touch was the metallic flavored clockwork core that told him time had passed. There were, not so much memories, but short sensations on a string of understanding that he’s been waking and sleeping over and over for more than just a single day or night.

_Hospital_.

That explains the zippy over-cleaned chemical smell, but not the other scent they were attempting to subdue. _Slick_. God, just so much of it. And not just his, though he can smell his own, faded like dried fruit, but _layers_. Time worn layers of endless, needful slick from an uncountable number of people with not a single note of Alpha or Beta fluids to indicate satisfaction. It was making him ill, and the more he tried to fight it, the stronger the scent clung to his nostrils.

“Hello there sunshine, you feelin’ better?” A large, soft shaped woman in colorfully printed scrubs slipped in on silent feet. There were puppy dogs on them, and festive little squiggles that look like confetti and Castiel wondered whatever happened to just green or blue. Her nametag says “Missouri”. That must be a fun name to say, all those vowels round on the palate. He gives it a try but can’t get past the first MMmm sound. She gives him a pat on the thigh and pulls over a cart.

“Looks like we can move you today, gonna get a nice room now that this mean ol’ heat’s gone.”

Blood pressure check, new IV bag. Covers down, gown up. A giant diaper of net and gauze encases his entire pelvic girdle, it’s so bulky Castiel didn’t even want to know what’s down there but isn’t given the option of ignorance. Missouri has the net part down and off with so much skill it felt like a magic trick. The gauze like a sanitary pad on steroids and with that peeled away, heavy and full of his own slick, he could now see the catheter and bag and some kind of nylon belt looped over the tops of each thigh.

“Taking this out, gonna feel a little pinch.” And pinch is the wrong word for the stinging drag as she yanks the tube out, careful but quick. A large gloved hand is pressed down on his groin and it does wonders at calming the sting so Castiel doesn’t let the embarrassment of it sway him. What does have him blushing in shame is the next piece, she unclipped the belt-like straps and griped at something between his legs, the other hand pressed firm on his belly.

“Ok sweetness, need you to push just a little for me.” And when he does the squelching pop almost had him gagging as a huge fake knot is pulled from his hole and dropped with a thud on the cart. There’s a cool wetness there now as she cleaned him off then covered him back up.

“We switched off the drugs, so I’m gonna give you ‘bout another hour to rest while they clear out of your system, then we’ll take you to your new room.”

It’s more than an hour, closer to three and the only entertainment is the clock. More than enough time to go over everything, wonder about Dean. Another nurse arrived with a wheelchair, this one bored looking and unspeaking as he transferred Castiel to the seat, unlocks it and wheels him down the hall to an elevator bank. Up they go, with him slouched small and covered only by the thin gown, fully dressed visitors, nurses, repairmen making him feel like an oddity.

The room was nearly identical to the last, but for the window and the blessed lack of heat wracked Omega smell. They bring him food but leave the IV, and after picking at it for half an hour, Sam walked in and he’s not alone.

“Hello there Mr. Novak, good to see you up. My name is Dr. Winslow and this is Officer Bradley. If you’re feeling up for it, he’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened to you.” It’s amazing to watch how very calm he was, no hint of panic, no twitchy knowing looks to signal to Castiel how he needed to respond. He’s so very tired it’s not hard at all to meet this Dr. Winslow for the ‘first time’. Castiel nodded and the officer stepped in at a respectful distance.

The interview is easier than he expected, he must look rough because there’s no suspicion at his lack of solid detail, confusion over what exactly happened and to whom. The four men were locked up under an impressive list of charges, his hadn’t been the only place they’d hit that night and there were two other people in this very hospital who’d met a similar fate. He’s thanked for his time and given a card, told they might have to contact him further, but this was a fairly simple case. The officer didn’t mention how they’d been caught or what state they’d been found in, and it seemed to Castiel they probably didn’t care. As much as his curiosity wanted to find out what they knew, he kept his mouth shut.

“If you’re all done with my patient, I have an examination I need to perform.”

With that they’re alone, and Sam really does perform an exam, basic but thorough. When it’s done he softens with a friendly smile. “How ya doing Cas?”

“Better, I think.” The conversation with the police officer had taken most of the croak out of his voice but it still sounded coarse and unused.

“Well you got off pretty good considering. Cracked rib is gonna hurt for a while, got some pretty big contusions that should start to fade in a few weeks, minor lacerations to the face, torso and arms. Six stitches in the one on your right side, shouldn’t scar too bad. I put you in with Dr. Halston and he does great work. I think we can release you tomorrow morning, so if you have someone that can pick you up, bring you some clean clothes, you can call them today.”

“How long have I been here?” Sam checked the chart.

“Ten days. That was a hell of a heat you went through.” And something’s going unsaid.

“I was…that wasn’t on my cycle.” Sam evaluated him with clinical, guarded eyes.

“I’m aware. We had you fairly well under control for the first few days, but ummm…” He looked both angry and embarrassed, but Castiel just had a medical dildo yanked from his ass so he’s beyond propriety now.

“What happened?”

“Dean came by to check on you. I told him not to, to stay away until after this whole robbery thing calmed down but he didn’t listen to me. And he could…umm…smell your heat on me, on some of the nurses and he just…” Sam drifts off and a knot formed in the pit of Castiel’s stomach.

“Where is he?”

“At my house, locked down. He almost punched one of the night nurses when they told him you were in a secure ward with no visitors. He just went crazy, I was afraid he was going to get arrested. Made it all the way outside your door, so I _maaay_ have shot him in the ass with an Alpha tranq.” Sam rubbed at the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly at the apparent fallout that action will have and his brotherly enjoyment at having gotten to do it. “And then padlocked him in my guest room. I’m gonna get a month’s worth of shit for this.”

Now he’s back in doctor mode but it’s still friendly and calm. Castiel can see how adept he is switching between comfort and authority, he must be very good at this job. “I’ve read about this but haven’t actually seen it before. It’s like, your body just went into overdrive being around a compatible unsuppressed Alpha, and that in turn sent Dean into a rut. It’s like a feedback loop. You started crashing into another round of heat and it got really dicey there for a while.”

“But is he ok?” Sam gives him a kind smile, but can’t keep the concern out of it. He knows Sam isn’t trying to be patronizing, but it’s hard not to frown in irritation at his overly careful tone.

“He’ll be fine. But I think it’s best, considering your current condition, that you not see Dean right now. I don’t want to prematurely classify this or anything, but it’s obvious your bodies are having a very strong reaction to one another, and it’s going to be a while before you can safely….handle….something strenuous.” His tone shifts to light and professional. “So that includes no heavy lifting for a few weeks until we see how it’s all knitted up and try to stay off your feet for extended periods of time. I’ll make an appointment with you for a check-up, say, end of the month?”

\---

His brother takes him home the next day. The night before had been split between the hourly tests (lights flicked on, limbs pulled, bandages changed without consideration for his desire to sleep) and vivid thoughts of Dean locked in a bedroom, rutting away at the mattress and imagining it’s Castiel. It’s a little frightening to admit the amount of pleasure this thought gives him, his Omega purring that an Alpha as strong and attractive as Dean responds so forcefully to his scent. He’s tried to shake it off, navigate through the rationality that he should feel terrible for Dean, especially considering he himself just came out on the other side of the same biological chemical bomb, has the fragmented memories of humiliating need and helplessness to back the argument up, but the claws of his instinct are just dug too deep. Dean’s body _wanted_ him, and it was a powerful thing to try and ignore.

Gabriel doesn’t say much, which is just what Castiel needs, even knowing that nothing good has ever come out of his brother’s silences. His house smells stale yet welcome. He’s starving but can’t bring himself to do anything other than mumble something like thanks at Gabe and trudge upstairs to collapse in his own bed fully clothed.

When he wakes, it’s to fading light and the smell of burnt sugar curling up from under the door. Gabriel must have decided to stay and destroy his kitchen while he was at it. He looks around in the soft light and imagines a pair of green eyes watching him as he wakes. Reaching for his phone, he pulls up a search for Dean Winslow, but none of the faces that come up have the full lips curled in a cocky smile, the endearing freckles, the work worn hands he’d felt on his body that had taken away some of the pain but left a new burn in their wake.

In the kitchen, the imp has his good barbeque fork in one hand, screwdriver in the other, each spearing what look like the blackened remains of marshmallows over his gas stove that, if those were the ones from his cabinet, are a least eight months old. The kitchen island is a mess of boxes and crumbs and jars with knives still protruding from their tops. Sometimes dealing with his brother was like monitoring a giant, sugar addicted, cartoon watching child with a driver’s license and a penchant for sharing more details than required about his assorted sexual conquests. Castiel tried to ease down on a stool, but it’s too much to ask of his tender body, moved to the couch instead.

“You have, literally, nothing to make s’mores with in this house, so I had to get creative, but I think I came up with something better!” A plate finds its way to his lap, and though the crumbled, oozing little sandwiches don’t look very appetizing right now, his body nudged him into taking the fast calories. “It’s gingersnaps and Nutella with the marshmallow. What do you think?”

“I think you need to see a dietician.” But he still ate another one. Gabriel seemed pleased with his creation, plopped down on the coffee table to pick at Castiel’s plate.

“ _I fucking told you so_!” It’s the overly loud volume that had Castiel nearly inhaling his cookie in surprise, not the accusation.

“Took a lot out of you, did it? Holding that in so long?” He deadpans as Gabriel sighs dramatically.

“Ugh, you have no idea. Cassie you ignorant little cunt I told you not to open the store for night hours alone! It is not your job to save the world one knot at a time! That was a stupid, stupid decision, why the hell didn’t you take anyone with you?”

“No one was free, and I didn’t want to ask the people that had already done their shift to come back for another one.”

“Well you should have called me then!”

“I did, you said no.” Gabriel isn’t fazed by incriminating truth.

“That’s right, and you should have too, to that stupid little voice in your head that thinks making irresponsible choices somehow helps people. Those closeted knot-heads could have just as easily come by during store hours, and that way you would have only had a break-in and not an extended hospital stay on lock down. Do you know they wouldn’t even let _me_ see you?!” Castiel sighed, but his brother was on a roll and with all the sugar he’s probably consumed, best to just let him ride it out.

“I mean, _heat_ Castiel? You get beat to a pulp and it triggers your heat? What the fuck hardcore Alpha master bullshit are you into for that to even happen?!” Castiel gave him an exasperated scowl.

“I’m not into…master…whatever. Who said it was triggered?”

“You and I have been on the same cycle since nineteen eighty forever, so none of that please.”  

Castiel wondered if he should give his brother all the details, Dean, the motel, all of it. But it was only ever a fifty fifty shot at best that Gabe could keep his mouth shut when needed and Castiel didn’t feel it was worth the risk.

“The doctors think it must have been one of the customers, Alphas coming in late like that must be almost out, or a few days off their pills already. Or it could have just been a combination of so many in one spot, they’re not really sure.”

He had just pulled that directly from his ass, but it actually sounded plausible.

“Hmm.” Was all Gabriel offered, but it didn’t seem like suspicion.

\---

He’d never had so many people coming and going in his house before. Castiel was social to a degree but private by habit, only a very few of his family and none of his friends had ever been to his home. However, Gabriel all but moved in to help him get around that first week, taking down things that were too high to comfortably reach, or wedged too low for him to bend over to get at, laying out everything he could possibly need on every available mid-level surface until his house was a wreck and he couldn’t believe he owned so much stuff. But at least it was all accessible. That was the ongoing theme of Gabriel’s attempts at hospice, methods left of center, place turned upside down, but in the end it seemed to work out pretty good for Castiel’s recovery. Same with the people, with Cas hell bent on being as self-sufficient and low maintenance as medically feasible, Gabe had a quite a bit of free time on his hands and Lord knows he was allergic to quiet. So he became nurse, cook and cruise director, booking visits with family, friends, co-workers, anyone that wanted to see how Cas was doing and gasp in horror at his story.

The first time, when their sister Anna stopped by with a lasagna that wouldn’t fit in his freezer, her tears had almost run him on the rocks, gotten him to spill about his gorgeous Alpha savior so she would stop giving him that trembling look that meant she was convinced he’d been raped but was too broken to admit it. But he remembered in time and mumbled out the version he’d given the police with just about the same amount of passion. She’d wept and promised to return the next day with more food but left satisfied. It was the same with the rest, Alphie with an update on the store, Michael with a formal sort of displeasure at Castiel’s “shocking naiveté”, friends with requests to see the bruises, relatives with their own tales of misery to try and even out the playing field. Balthazar brought a date.

Mostly is was nice, but by the third day Castiel was begging off any more such visits, he just wanted to sleep, watch the news, sort through a new recipe he’d been working on for stimulating slick production in low-oestroid producing Omegas.

Castiel had confused everyone when he’d followed up a degree in chemical engineering with one in massage therapy. His mother had worried he’d burnt himself out on the rigorous studies and was heading towards a career in something frivolous and menial simply because it was easy.  What she’d failed to notice over her vodka rocks was that Castiel had never done anything in life because it was easy, he just saw no reason to choose between two things that interested him greatly. And frankly he’d had a much easier time of it with the configurations of chemical compounds than the sorted needs of the general public. There had been a number of lucrative offers from drug companies with household names, but their interests were exacting and had no place for the subtleties of more natural compounds. Holistic medicines and healing seemed to be a perfect fit, so when Uncle Uriel died, leaving him a modest sum, it was just enough to purchase a little storefront with a workroom in back where Castiel could tinker and create more customized products for his clients. And he did fairly well for himself.

This convalescence was a bit of a blessing, he had a notebook filled with half-finished ideas and never enough time to flesh them out. So after everyone had satisfied their curiosities and wished him a speedy recovery, he was left mostly alone to hole up in his bedroom, tucked into bed and blanketed with papers and various colored pens. He felt, strangely, more invigorated than he had in years, though his body ached almost constantly. When that became too much to bear, he swallowed one of the miraculous little pills Dr. Winslow had given him and sank back in the dark, savoring the feel of the sweet narcotic tide taking over from the inside out. And it was only then that he allowed himself to think of Dean, think of the possibilities of him, pretend for a moment with eyes closed that the soreness and sting was the aftermath of a furious mating. That this bed held more than one scent, twined that deep woods animal spice with his own sweetness, balancing each other. That the footsteps downstairs, the cabinets knocking closed, the television murmuring was Dean, his mate, moving through their home and not Gabriel.

The best part though, the single space of time he looked forward to the most each day was right before he fell asleep, when the drugs were strongest and his consciousness waning fast, when he could feel it, a simulacrum of a mated bond humming through his blood. The warm satisfaction, heavy contentment was, for a moment, all Dean, present, complete, _his_.

Not something from a bottle he kept in a drawer next to his bed.

\---

“I don’t want your friggin’ bribe.” Dean sounded hoary as he looked, a week with no shower, barely any food even less sleep, would do that. Christ, there had never been a rut as bad as this and with a gun to his head he wouldn’t admit it but it was a damn good thing Sam had got him locked up tight this go around because it was certain fact that anyone batting a pretty eyelash at him would have gotten fucked in half or any Alpha stupid enough to look at him cross-eyed would wake up in a pool of their own blood missing parts of their spine. Sammy had done right, but that didn’t shy Dean off punching him flat on his ass the minute his brother opened the door to release him. Should have expected it, probably did since he didn’t try to take him out at the knees like he normally would if he was feeling justified. Just shook it off and grunted in the direction of the kitchen. Sammy was a dick sometimes but he was man enough to take his medicine.

His brother pushed a shower, but fuck that, he was eating first. Let the kid huff and pull a face at his rut stink, that’s what happens. And he did stink, just an unholy amount of pheromones and a week’s worth of sweat and come that had become too much to even bother cleaning off at some point. Not even the cooking grease and coffee smell could mask it, so bad it was almost a point of pride. But his brother kept his mouth shut and served. Must be feeling extra sorry, put the cheese inside the patty so it ran out gooey with the juice, extra bacon and everything. He tried to pout and push the plate away but it was red meat and a beer at 8am and under different circumstances that would have been Christmas. Managed not to moan like a whore when he bit into it. Eyes did roll back some, but Sam, thankfully, didn’t notice that. 

It sat right there, leaden between them, eroded with every jack of his hand and flex of his hips into the mattress down to a perfect six foot replica of a certain wild haired Omega. Dean gave his hunger precedence but Sam wasn’t stupid enough to think the occupation of his food was anything more than a clock ticking down.

“Where is he?” Dean pushed his plate away with the deliberate stop of punctuation.

“No.” Sam turned from his place at the counter, voice calm, firm with the days of preparation he’d had for this conversation.

“Where is he Sam?” It was the barest veneer of Alpha, because Sam was a granite rock against his explosions, something like this needed to simmer up slow to get him to crack.

“Do you need me to list out all the reasons why this can’t happen? One- he’s in a bad state right now, those guys really worked him over _on top of_ the fact that not only did you trigger his heat but then did it _again_ after we’d managed to get him stable.”

“That’s why I need to see-“

“Two- what good is it going to do? You going to mate him, Dean? Settle down, get a house, raise some pups? The only reason you haven’t moved on by now is I had you padlocked in the guest room.”

“Damn it Sam I just-“

“And three-let’s say for a second you do mate him, what then? You gonna tell him who you are, what you do? Think he’ll still look at you like his knight in shining armor if he knows?”

Dean flexed his fists, not a threat, just the body getting primed for what it normally wanted when he was this angry. Fuck Sam for being right, fuck him and all his reasons. There was no way his brother could know, could understand the sick wrongness churning in his gut every single minute. Sam was going to meet his mate like the normal tax paying Alpha he’d become, standing in line for coffee, sitting in the waiting room of his private practice, in a fender bender where exchanged numbers lead to lunch which lead to more. It would all be apple pie and sunshine. Not stalking down the midnight street already worked up if he couldn’t find some suppressant for a brother who got too stupidly busy with rounds to properly count his own pills. Not seeing his destination and then coming full stop outside the door when he smelled it, _omega MATE blood fear MATE pain_.

“It was him Sam.”

And for a moment his brother’s genuine confusion jostled for space with the self-righteous arrogance settled along his angular features.

“Him what?”

Dean finished his beer, occupied himself with retrieving another, draining that too because how the fuck did he say this without setting off Sam’s emotional salivary gland?

“That job a while back in Ojai.”

“Ojai?” It had been so long since Sam had been out there in the shit with him that his recall was a bit rusty.

“The uhhh… the ghoul, munching on little old ladies like chicken nuggets? And there was a civilian…?”

“Holy shit, Dean. That was Castiel?” And the galoot’s eyes got wide and soft with that little pout that said _he understood_ and Dean wanted to lock himself back in that sweaty shithole of a room with the stupid pastoral prints of farms and snowy fields and a wood carved tissue box with mallards on it that he’d had to look at every time he wiped another load of come off his stomach. Anything was better than having this conversation. “I mean, how does that happen? Does he know? Did he remember? Did you tell him?”

Dean chose the easy road. “Yes he remembers, and it was… awkward.”

“But did you _tell_ him?” And fuck, he knew exactly what Sam was hinting at.

“What, about the day job? No.”

“Dean stop being a prick, did you tell him about….”

“About trying to find him afterwards and say ‘hey, listen, I know you just got finished washing monster blood off your hands,  but I think we need to find somewhere convenient that I can knot you’? Didn’t get a chance to slip that into the conversation, sorry.”

Sam just gave him a look, but hell he didn’t even know the _half_ of it. Only that his big brother had come out on the other end of a job completely sideswiped by the Omega that had found himself in the middle of the hunt. And never having seen his brother so twisted around by anybody ever, had encouraged him to seek the man out. Not that he thought it would be easy but if he could leverage this into his brother finally getting out of the life, he was willing to try the long shot.

The reality was worse. That day Dean had finished up with the bleach and the salt and the two a.m. body burn off the side of the road in a citrus orchard. And he told himself it was guilt that had him digging two graves just so that sweet little Mabel didn’t have to suffer mingling her earthly ashes with that of the monster that killed her, and not a consideration to the Omega who had obviously carried some affection for the woman.  He also hadn’t mentioned that more than once he’d reworked the memory of their meeting so that instead of the Omega running out the door and out of his life without a trace, Dean had tucked the blue eyed beauty into the front seat of his Impala and driven off the map with him. He’d pulled every trick in the book to find him, but the fucked up part was the only thing that would have helped him track the man was the trace left at the scene that Dean had to scrub away. There wasn’t time, and the motherfucking M word was needling his brain in a way that he wanted to pickle with a goddamned gallon of whiskey, so he poked around, asked a few neighbors a few general things about a man that might have been spending time helping out the sweet little old lady down the street. But he’d had to be so careful, didn’t want people to start thinking the Omega had something to do with the disappearance, once that finally came out.

He all but haunted that town for two weeks but found nothing.

Then reality set in, there were things that needed hunting and other people that needed saving and he couldn’t just hang out here with aging hippies and open air book stores indefinitely hoping to cross paths with someone that would never want a guy like him anyway.

But to find him again like this…

Funny enough, the shock at scenting _his_ mate that night, _his_ Omega, under the signs of violence and distress left him just enough time for his last rational thought before his Alpha roared to life. _Fucking figures_. He’d never had anything in life that wasn’t stained with blood somehow, why should this be any different?

The only reason he didn’t start shooting was his gun was in the car. The assailants’ senses were all muddied to Beta with the drugs, but his were clear, pure, never touched the stuff.  Couldn’t in his line of work. So he got an uninterrupted show for a good fifteen seconds before they realized he was there. And it almost broke his sanity. While two of them fiddled with pulling boxes from the back room, two more were taking turns kicking the prone body of his Omega, who curled and twisted in pain but made no more sound than an exaggerated huff when the blows landed. Dean knew that sound, had done it himself countless times when strapped down with no more defense than a refusal to admit how much it hurt. His Alpha was screaming for blood, ripping claws into his chest to lunge, break, snap jaws until the blood ran down his chin. There was too much fear, too much desperate adrenal fog for him to smell what he should have when meeting his Omega, the warmth, the sweetness of home. All he got was _mineminemine. That’s mine and they’re hurting him_.

It felt so good to let the Alpha out, to drop the leash and sit his better self back in a corner of his mind to watch the carnage. Four normal humans? Wouldn’t think the odds were in their favor if they knew what he was used to fighting, what kinds of hulking nightmares on legs he regularly sent back to whatever hell they came from. So it was an easy task to keep one eye on his Omega, watch with what felt like a wellspring of pride when the man pushed up bloody on his hands to trip one of the assailants, watched with gleaming black joy when he took the knife to his attacker. His Omega needed to be strong and he was, so beautiful, staring up at him, perched on top of the other Alpha. But in a hot vertical flash his own Alpha roared in ignorant anger, _an Alpha has my Omega on top of him!_ The coil of possessiveness found purchase and squeezed. And it was a battle to get it under control because he knew the facts but his beast was so far off the chain it would snap at anything. It was only the Omega, mouthing the words, a breath on the wind he couldn’t hear but understood that gave him that second to turn, shove the heel of his hand into the nose of the older man where he loomed and leered behind him.

Fuck there was a knife, he’d almost had his throat slit. When he turned back, the threats are all slumped in dark shapeless piles on the floor along with his mate.

_Not his yet, need to claim_. _Protect protect then claim_.

But it wasn’t just how he’d found him, it was worse afterwards. Having to undress him, see the evidence of what they’d done littered over that pale flesh, scenting his pain and fear. His Omega feared him, and why shouldn’t he? Waking up like he did, Dean should have just taken him to the hospital, called Sam first, but he couldn’t, his Alpha refused. He needed to care for his mate( _not yours yet)_ himself. Protect, provide. And the dingy beige surroundings of the motel room mocked him. What could you provide? More of the same most likely. But he couldn’t let him go, just another hour, minute, he would call Sam in a minute.

And the sudden heat? Jesus, how the fuck had he managed to stay strong? Castiel was so delicious, ripe and begging him, and he felt like he wanted to rip his skin off to get to him. Only Sam stopped him, only an Alpha he knew wasn’t a threat, wouldn’t kill for competition, could have held him back. Almost didn’t when he returned a few days later.

Empty motel rooms had never bothered him before, but the sheets had smelled of Cas, of sex and home and things he’d never allowed to become hopes. Want, it was just blunt wanting. He rolled in the sheets, rubbed his nose in them and thought of what he would do if he had the source, coat his tongue with it, lick his own scent over every hot inch, impale the Omega on his knot and show him in no uncertain terms that this was where he lived now.

He’d tried to stay away, knew it was better for him to, even as he stripped his dick raw on the stiff worn cotton of the motel bed. He’d never been looking for a mate, and had convinced himself that it wasn’t even worth the price of a thought considering his life, his lack of attachments. Odds were firmly in lifelong bachelorhood, the odd Beta bounced in his lap and gone without a phone number to pass the time in between.

It hurt but the decision was made.

And he had the key in the ignition, and a destination and job waiting for him and no use for a mate, and he chanted these things in order over and again. Dean turned over the engine and merged into the light traffic chanting them still, heading for the freeway and three solid hours on the open road. But when he parked, looked up at the hospital complex, he couldn’t even be surprised that he didn’t remember the trip here. Just sighed and patched together a pathetic excuse that he would check on Cas, make sure he was doing ok, then leave him to his life.

He’d charmed his way to the right floor, but had to break down and call Sam when he couldn’t find the right wing. When his brother showed, striding down the hall on those long legs, propelled by the frustration that Dean had refused to listen and just hit the road, Dean meant to pull the teasing older brother routine to soften him up, maybe get a room number so he could peek inside. But Sam had just been near Cas, and Dean’s unexpected visit meant he hadn’t even changed his scrubs like he would have done in the presence of an unmated, unmedicated Alpha. Sam was slammed into the wall with a forearm at his throat before he could get a word out. Dean’s Alpha roared to life, Cas’ heat scent was all over his brother and it called to him to _mate claim breed_. And he must have said something because Sam was refusing him, then slumping to the floor from the punch to the gut. Dean tracked his mate, scented the trail left by his brother, down the corridor, into the adjoining wing.

The place was swimming with Omegas, not even Betas worked this section of the hospital. Dean was all Alpha but he wasn’t dropped to his knees by every sweet little curl of a slick on the breeze, but _his_ Omega, he could smell him close and desperate and it was making his mouth water and his blood boil. People were calling to him, then yelling at him but he was already at the door peering into the glass. The room was dark but he could see Cas splayed out on the bed. Dean pounded once, twice against the door but the lock was key coded and there wasn’t even a handle for him to try and wrench. Cas turned at the sound, eyes glassy and unfocused but maybe he knew. He watched the Omega struggle, twisting and pushing to try and get up, out of the bed. He could hear the sharp, quickening beats of the heart monitor, and in the space between beats, his name. The Omega couldn’t see him but he _knew_ and was calling Dean’s name as he thrashed in the covers and Dean was yelling now, the loudest in a chorus of shouts, and someone here was going to die if they didn’t let him into this room _right the fuck now_.

Several sets of feet running, behind him, but he didn’t turn, just flinched a bit when the dart hit the meat of his ass. And the last thing he remembered was to keep his mouth shut, not call out his brother’s name to where he stood surrounded by orderlies. No one’s supposed to know they’re brothers. He doesn’t exist. He never did.


	4. Chapter 4

“The recent string of assaults and robberies have put local communities on edge. Many are calling for a curfew for all Alpha citizens and a greater police presence until the situation is under control.” The dark haired newscaster attempted a look of cold concern as images of peaceful looking protests in front of city courthouses are coupled with one or two broken store windows and a trash fire that might not even be part of the scene at all. A few more words and they’re cutting to a feed of Senator Naomi Milton standing in the rotunda of a legal building, manicured smile and polished hair and Castiel felt his stomach twist just looking at her.

“We knew the ruling would be met with opposition, but if the Alpha community wants to be treated with fairness then it really does nothing for their cause if the reaction is what we’ve seen. We cannot live in a free, equal society if a significant portion of the population lives under the guise of subterfuge and dishonesty. Omegas have the most to lose, and unless we want a return of the archaic dynamics of our past, where Omegas were treated as property and chattel, then we must stand strong in our desire to shut down all attempts at marketing for sale products that—“ The television blinked off and Castiel glared at his brother.

“I was watching that.”

“Don’t you get enough of listening to that bitch spout off at Thanksgiving? I refuse to devote a moment of my free time to that harpy when I could very well be watching porn.” Castiel stared at the black screen as if the image of Naomi was still smiling back at him.

“About that, isn’t that sort of thing free on the internet now? I just received my cable bill and besides being broke they now think I have a fixation with teen asses and pirates.” Gabriel snickers and flops down next to him.

“Butt pirates.”

“You’re an idiot, have I told you that this morning?”

“Love you too cupcake.” Gabriel swung his legs up and across Castiel’s lap, leaning back into the pillows and fussing with his cuticles. “So how we doing today? I got this tight little blonde called Jasmine who’ll give you a sponge bath complete with the nurse hat if you want to milk this some more.”

From anyone else that would be a joke but Castiel would bet honest money this Jasmine was already a contact in his brother’s phone.

“I’m fine Gabriel. I actually plan on heading into the store in an hour to see how things are doing.”

“Well last I checked Kevin’s been pulling double shifts to reorganize everything that got scrambled after the police finally left back to his OCD standards and looks like he just came out the other end of a meth bender and Alphie’s having a prolonged nervous breakdown sooo…..perfectly normal weekday.”

Castiel offered a soft smile at the thought of his employees, he’d collected a motley little band of strays that had stayed on with him far longer than the average part timer and had become more of a family than most of his own were at times. Along with Kevin and Alphie he had Garth, who seemed to find some six degrees of separation with almost every customer that walked in and knew how to make them all smile even as they tried to figure out if he was for real, and Meg, who barely did anything that might resemble actual work and terrified the boys but seemed to understand Castiel even when he was at his most socially awkward. No one knew why he kept her around, but now that her groping had become more of a way to ruffle his feathers, he found that he enjoyed her sharp humor and knack for balancing out the crunchy granola vibe that always threatened to take over the place if left to its regular clientele.

“All the more reason to stop in.”

The week had taken most of the barbed edges off his pain, his ribs ached, his stitches pulled if he forgot himself and moved too quickly, bruises slowing a lot of his graceful efficiency down to a measured crawl, but it was all mostly stiff annoyance that could be dealt with by a careful pace and some ibuprofen.

There was another layer of hurt, buried beneath these discomforts that didn’t respond to his efforts to heal, and this he tried to soothe quickly in the shower or draped across his bed with the door securely locked. Hands sliding down his thighs to find himself already dripping, waiting for the inadequate thrust of fingers at a bad angle. His heat was over but all it took now was a thought of bright green eyes and firm hands and a scent that made him feel like he was being devolved at a genetic level by lust before he was soaking wet and panting for a knot. There were several very nice fake knots in a box under his bed, including one Gabriel had given him that was obscenely large and lit up like a glow stick while playing Azz Everywhere when you pressed the button. He only kept that one for fear that someone might discover it in his trash and put his name on some sort of list.

He didn’t use any of these though, even at the moments his body was begging for it the most. There was always a little voice whispering _wait_.

_Just wait._

Like he was trying to save himself for something. Ridiculous as that was. It’s not as if he was a virgin for one, or had any real prospects on the horizon. But as much as he wanted to fill himself, feel the moment when his body accepted a knot and shivered with relief, he wanted the next one inside him to be real.

And he refused to let the thought take full shape, but he knew it lurked there all the same. He wanted it to be Dean’s.

\---

“Oh thank God.” Meg deadpanned from her stool behind the counter. “I was an hour away from killing one of them as an example to the others. Kevin almost tasered an Alpha just for asking when your next batch of generic would be ready.”

Castiel sighed, “We’re out of the generic already? But I made ten cases. And Kevin, why do you have a taser in my store?”

“What?! Of _course_ I have a taser! How else are we going to make sure we’re not robbed again!”

“Bunny, if they really wanted it they could just shoot you.” Meg smiled as Kevin went pale. “Anyway, we _had_ ten cases, now we have no cases and are nearly out of the herbal suppressant, but nobody really wants that so get your tight little ass back there and start cranking out some more. I got a waiting list.”

They’d never had a waiting list before.

“Also, just about everyone wants to ask you to prom. You got a visit from the police since you never answer your phone, they said all those assholes made bail at once and all of them skipped town. They basically have to find them first before you can proceed with pressing charges, gonna send a squad car around now and then to check on the store, but twenty dollars says you’re lucky if we see a patrol once.” She handed him a business card and he recognized Officer Bradley’s name.

Castiel felt his stomach clench. Not that he had any real fear of them returning for some sort of vengeance, but it was unsettling to know that those men were out there somewhere.

“You don’t need to worry, I’m sure the police will find them.” This was more for Kevin’s benefit, the kid looked green.

“Next up, the cyborg’s been here every day looking for you, so we all know what that means.”

Castiel cursed under his breath.

“And finally, some Abercrombe motherfucker has been staking out the joint for the last two days. I finally called him on it and he told me to give you this.” She handed him a piece of torn paper with a phone number and a note. _Want to know that you’re ok. –D_

Castiel felt his heart rate spike immediately; he shoved the paper in his pocket and tried to act natural when he said he’d be in his workroom if they needed him.

With the door locked he sank into the torn leather wingback he’d found on the sidewalk last month and pulled the crumpled paper out of his pocket. He punched the number into his phone and saved the contact under D. Before he could talk himself out of it he hit the call button and willed himself not to hang up.

“Hello?” That low grumble voice filled his ear and he felt himself go hot.

“Hello Dean.”

“Cas? That you man?” He smiled at the sound of his nickname.

“Yes it is. I was told you came by my store.”

“Sorry, not trying to be creepy but I just wanted to find out if you were ok and for some reason Sammy thinks it’s unethical to hand over a patient’s medical records so a total stranger can call them and say hi.” He laughed. God he had a great laugh.

“You’re not a total stranger Dean. I believe saving someone’s life gets you upgraded to fond acquaintance at least.”

“You sayin’ you’re fond of me Cas?” Dean’s voice was low and teasing and goddamn it he was making Castiel wet already.

“I’m saying…maybe to repay you, I might offer to take you to diner some time.” There was a long silence on the other end and Castiel began to panic that maybe he’d been reading this all wrong. “Or coffee, if that’s better for you. Or-or nothing really, I just wanted to say thank you. Is all. Not-“

“Cas?”

“Yes Dean?”

“When can I pick you up for dinner?”

\---

There was a soft knock at the door.

“One of these days she’s going to make him snap and he’s either going to kill her or bend her over a display case and I’m just making it clear now that you don’t pay me enough to deal with that sort of clean up.”

Castiel groaned as he moved past Kevin, steeling himself. In four hours Dean was going to pick him up at the store and all he wanted to do was float on the giddy anticipation and not deal with this bullshit.

“…did you know that? Like a _geyser_ , spray you all over, get this crisp little suit of yours all messed up. I know you’d like that. Stand there impassively if you want to watch me masturbate.”

“Meg!” She didn’t move from where she was sitting on the counter, legs splayed as she teased the 6’6” behemoth in a black suit with blackout sunglasses and an earpiece. He stood at attention, arms behind his back, totally ignoring Meg as she whispered filth in his ear. It was a familiar scene, she’d been trying for years to get the man to crack but Castiel bet he didn’t even blink behind those shades. There was a reason they called him cyborg behind his back.

“Tell her no,” Castiel started as way of a greeting. “If she really wanted to see me she could have come to my house or at the very least called like a normal person.”

The man stood there, silent.

“I’m not going. Tell her I happen to be quite busy because some nutcases in the legislature decided to act like a bunch of fascist assholes and now I have my hands full with normal, freedom loving citizens who don’t deserve-!“

“Cassie, you’re spiraling.” Meg interrupted and Castiel brought his voice back down.

“Tell her Gabe is back at his place, so if she wants she can come by later this week.”

The man didn’t move.

“Fine! Fucking fine you cocksucker I’ll go tomorrow, ok?! Come by tomorrow afternoon.”

“I bet you’d love to suck a cock.” Meg slithered up to his front, “On your knees with my hand in your hair, ordering you around, choking you on some stranger’s giant dick?”

Silent as always the man turned and walked out the door, not acknowledging Meg’s lewd comments in the least. He never had.

\---                                     

Fifteen minutes to closing and the door chime jingled, causing Castiel to tense up just like he had the hundred other times the chime had gone off today. But this time he was rewarded with the sight of Dean strolling up to the counter and leaning over to talk to Meg, who nodded in his direction where he stood restocking one of the shelves. Dean turned and Castiel suddenly had no idea what to do with his arms or – or face. He tried to smile but it felt ill placed on his features so he stood there motionless.

“Heya Cas.”  Dean stopped short, a small twitch in his hands like he wanted to reach for Castiel before they ended up shoved in his pockets. “You look good.”

“Thank you, Dean. Though I’m sure your frame of reference is skewed considering you’ve only seen me black and blue or knocked out by heat in a hospital bed.”

Dean looked sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sammy told you I came by, did he?”

“He did.” And then not knowing what next to say in the gathering silence, “Your brother is a very good doctor.”

They both ignored the facts going unspoken. That the last time Castiel had seen this man he’d been reduced to explicitly propositioning the Alpha in the middle of the sidewalk. That Dean had gone into a rut and spent nearly a week padlocked in a room and masturbating furiously to thoughts of Castiel.

It was coloring this attempt at normal interactions awkward to say the least.

They stared at one another, even when a customer edged by them to get at a box of nursing tea. Meg made some half noise at the front that seemed to snap Dean out of it.

“So should we…” He turned to gesture towards the door, and when he turned back, the Omega’s lips were on him quick, pressing warm against his own. Castiel didn’t know what had come over him, just that he’d had felt stalled and overwhelmed at the same time and the man smelled so fucking incredible this seemed like the only right thing to do. Dean tensed, shocked momentarily into stillness, but not for long. Arousal burst and unfurled between them, a jet of ink in water, and Castiel’s senses were filled with it, instantly dizzy with the desire to taste this Alpha right here against the shelves. He felt infected by it, captured, and Dean came alive beneath his hands, low revving purrs and a mouth sliding lush over his own and wide hands holding Castiel’s hips in place so he could grind down.

“AHHEM!” Meg was nothing if not subtle. “You mind? You’re gonna get me pregnant.”

Dean only gave up Castiel’s lips so that he could bury his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply as he wrapped his arms around the smaller man.

“You got an office or a storage room or something?”

Castiel nodded, grabbing Dean by the wrist and dragging him back into his workroom before locking the door. He was on the Alpha in a second, hands tugging at clothing, mouth working over the hot pulse at his neck. Holy shit the man smelled amazing, the spicy edge of his arousal singing through his sinuses. He pushed his nose up under the Alpha’s jaw, scenting him while arching his body against the other man’s, an instinctual need to rub his scent all over his mate.

 _Mate_.

Shit, that thought pulled him up short. He had worked the Alpha’s shirt off and he was ten seconds away from losing his own pants entirely, but suddenly his brain decided to crash the party.

“Dean I- want this to happen but…we can’t uhh…”

Dean’s face looked pained, but he held Castiel’s face in his hands. “It’s ok darlin’, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“No!” Castiel pulled him hard when he felt the man try to move away. “You mistake me. This is my place of business, and my employees will eventually....you can’t… knot me here… is all.” And Castiel went crimson at his own words.

Dean let out a shaky laugh, “How ‘bout this, right now I’m gonna bend you over that desk,” He pointed to the furniture in question, “and make it real hard for you to keep quiet for all your customers. Then I want to take you out somewhere nice and feed you and get you a little drunk and then see you home safe. And whenever you’re ready, if you want to see me again, I’ll lay you out on a bed and find out how many times I can knot you up tight in one night.”

Castiel felt the molten wave of arousal course through him, slick gushing from his hole at the words, all but soaking him and Dean growled at the scent and started tearing at Castiel’s pants.

“But first, been dreaming about tasting you for too long.” Dean pushed Castiel back until he hit the desk, then spun the Omega, pushing him down to lay face first on the cluttered surface and dropping to his knees. Castiel’s pants were peeled roughly to his ankles and Dean wasted no time licking wide stripes along the damp swell of his ass and his leaking hole. Dean groaned obscenely and pushed his face in deeper, tongue probing the slick ring of muscle, straining to lick out every drop he could reach. “Fuck you’re delicious, and so wet for me. Wanna eat you out til you come on my tongue.”

Castilel’s thighs began to shake as the pleasure ratcheted up to an unbearable degree. He could barely stay quiet, and when Dean pressed his lips against the fluttering pink hole and _sucked_ , Castiel had to bury his face in the crook of his arm to muffle the cry. Fingers were gradually joining that marvelous tongue, one then two then three and Castiel felt so painfully needy and open he thought he might die if he didn’t get the Apha’s cock in him.

“Dean please, no more! I need you inside me!” His breathing was ragged with the effort not to make sound above a whisper. He could hear customers shuffling about outside and beneath that one of Meg’s brassy chuckles.

The sound of Dean freeing his cock made Castiel tremble with anticipation. “Don’t want to hurt you, I’m not small…”

Castiel canted his hips upward, an unmistakable invitation and Dean’s hands immediately went to his hips, gripping him tight and pulling him up with a groan until Castiel was balanced on his toes, head still buried in his arms.

“Can’t wait…won’t hurt me…please Dean I need you.”

Dean didn’t even try to argue, one hand swiping through the slick seeping from his fluttering hole, smearing it down the length of his cock before he lined up and pressed in slow and Castiel’s eyes snapped open in shock because holy shit the man hadn’t been kidding. There was no room in him even to breathe as Dean slid into him, burn and burn and stretch almost to the point of too much until he was flush hip to ass and a switch was flipped. The ruthless size of him was suddenly scratching an itch he hadn’t even realized had been living in his very bones.

“Shit shit shit shit _Cas_!” Was all Dean could offer as he panted against the Omega’s back.

The whole world narrowed to _Alpha fuck cock breed fuck_. Castiel started chanting _fuckmefuckmefuckme_ at the will of his raging instincts while Dean began to lick along his shoulder and up the side of his neck with the flat of his tongue.

And at that very moment Kevin decided to interrupt from the other side of the door.

“Umm…Castiel? I have a woman here that really doesn’t want the herbal suppressant but she refuses to put her name on the list and wants to speak to you about a custom order?”

Behind him Dean was panting like an animal, heaving a low growl at the sound of another man’s voice. Castiel tried to straighten up a bit, but the Alpha wrapped himself around the Omega an grumbled _Mine_ as he thrust in deep, and Castiel had to choke down the moan that was punched out of him. God it felt so good, stuffed so incredibly full, nerves on fire, but he had to rally his thoughts before Kevin did something stupid like try to open the door.

“Kevin _nn-ha-aah_ -“ Dean kept thrusting, and Castiel wasn’t sure if the man could have stopped even if the door _was_ opened. “Tell her to _fuck_! Just –umm- _uhh-uhh- shit_! YES! Uhh… yes tell her to leave… number… call her… when I finish…soon… I’m _so close-_ “ He could hear Kevin move away, mumbling something about a new job.

Dean latched his teeth on the back of Castiel’s neck, just enough to sting but not enough to break the skin, and the startling possibility of getting mated like this had him keening. “Alpha,” he hissed, arching his back to get the man deeper, “Fuck me good Alpha, come on, knot me, breed me, fill me up.”

The teeth bore down harder still but not hard enough and Dean’s hand reached down to stroke the Omega’s smooth cock, as the swell of his knot began to catch. “My pretty Omega, so good begging for my knot. You’d take it so well, I can’t wait to tie you up and pump you full. But we’ll do that later, right now I want you to come for me, ok sweetheart?”

 The rumble of the Alpha’s voice pushed Castiel over the crest of the wave and he was spilling over hot in Dean’s hand, biting down on his own wrist as he tried to stifle the screams. Dean stroked him through it, kissing the purpling marks he’d left all over Cas’ neck. When the Omega slumped down against the desk, sated, Dean withdrew quickly and fisted himself furiously until he was painting white stripes along the beautiful creamy skin of Castiel’s ass and thighs. When he was done, his knot receding quickly as it wasn’t being milked by an Omega, he rubbed his thumbs in the shining trails of his spend, working it into the Omega’s skin and wholly ignoring the fact that he was scent marking this man like they were already mates.

“Hey,” Dean began tucking himself back in. “You got something in here I can use to clean you up?”

With a grunt, Castiel pushed up to standing and began removing the rest of his soiled clothes, balling up his tshirt to try and wipe himself down. Dean took it from him and did the job himself, then gathered the Omega in his arms and began snuffling gently in his neck, nipping and kissing while Castiel squirmed.

“I have to get dressed, Dean.” He pouted, though there was a smile in it.

“Mmm, you smell like me. Too bad I can’t take you out like this, keep you all naked and pretty in my lap while I feed you steak. Everyone would be so jealous.”

“Everyone would call the cops.”

Dean laughed but finally let Cas go so the man could dig out a set of clean clothes that he always kept in his workroom. Once dressed in old jeans and a faded tshirt, Cas pulled his shoes back on and balled up his slick soaked garments, shoving them in a plastic bag and hiding them in a desk drawer until a time when he could sneak them out of the store without notice.

Not that he wasn’t 100% certain Meg and Kevin knew exactly what had been going on in here for the last twenty minutes, the place stank of pheromones and sweat and he was pretty sure he was going to have to steam clean most of the surfaces.

“Would you mind terribly if we stuck to some place casual?” Castiel asked, “All I want right now is a beer and a mountain of fries.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on an actual date. With a bit of searching through memories of his younger years, the only times he’d stuck around a place long enough, he realized it was entirely possible he’d never been on a real date before. Picking up a quick fuck in a bar obviously didn’t count, and that was pretty much the sum total of his experience. There was Lisa, sort of, but mostly they used to make out in the back of the Impala when his dad was too drunk to notice he’d swiped the keys. But they never went anywhere to talk or get to know each other beyond what flavor gum the other had been chewing. There had been a cute little Omega once with red hair and huge tits that had seemed to get a thrill out of going out in public with an actual Alpha, but somewhere between the fancy brick oven pizza they’d been sharing and dessert being served the girl had spotted one of her coworkers and panicked, bolting without even a hint of an excuse because it was one thing to brag to your friends that you got railed good and hard by some Alpha, it was apparently another thing entirely to be seen with one by a business partner.

Dean had been prepared to offer Cas a night at someplace more…date-like. Bottles of wine and candlelight and waiters giving him that look like they _knew_ he didn’t belong there. He was at a loss as to why he even considered going to the trouble, especially since he should have been long gone ages ago and was still expected to hit the road at some point in the near future. Why was he doing this? Hanging around like this might lead to something? Straight shot 90 proof stupidity right here, especially when he slid into the booth next to Cas and it really hit home what a colossal idiot he was.

So yes, when Cas mentioned he would prefer someplace more casual, the first thing that popped into mind was The Roadhouse, and for the thirty seconds of brain power he spared on something other than categorically undressing Castiel with his eyes, Dean thought, hell, two birds one stone, was planning on stopping in anyway. But one of those birds was a hawk and when she glided in on silent wings and trapped Dean in his seat with her body and one of those _looks_ , he knew he’d probably made a terrible mistake.

“Dean Winchester, you got some nerve showing up here without so much as a call you were in town.”

“Don’t be mad Ellen, I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, I can smell busy all over you, probably half the bar can, too. I should take you both out back and turn the hose on you.”

Dean just grinned at her, then grinned wider at the look of panic taking over Castiel’s face.

“Or you could get us two of the usual seeing as I told my friend here what great food you got and what a kind and beautiful woman the owner was and…”

“All right enough of that bullshit. Now introduce me to your friend like you have some manners.”

Dean leaned back in the booth a bit to give the two of them room to shake.

“Ellen, this is my… this is Cas. Cas, this is Ellen, a good family friend.”

“Pleased to meet you Ellen.”

“Likewise, Cas. Can’t say as I’ve seen Dean bringing new people around in a while.” And she gave Dean a look that held a good bit more than she’s saying. “Why don’t I get you boys your food?”

She returned not long after with two enormous burgers, a basket of fries and a pitcher of beer.

“Enjoy your meal boys. Nice to meet you Cas. And Dean, before you try an’ skip out of here I need a word with you in my office when you’re done.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Dean nodded and slapped on a grin and nudged Cas with his elbow to get the guy to dig in, doing his best to pretend he didn’t know what’s waiting for him behind Ellen’s closed door. He had a pretty good idea.

Not that it made any difference at the moment, seeing as the food was terrific and the beer was cold and Dean was feeling more relaxed than he could recall being in years. Cas was tucked in close beside him, making pornographic little noises at his burger and pounding a glass of beer like he had the tolerance of a trucker. And Dean had always been a fast eater so he turned in the booth when he was done and chatted up the Omega about nothing in particular, who in turn seemed mildly annoyed that Dean expected him to say more than a word or two around mouthfuls of his food and shyly pleased when Dean would lean over to nuzzle at his neck or scent his hair.

Omegas all smelled sweet, but in different ways, most of them like baked goods, vanilla and cream. But Castiel had struck him from the first moment as different, deeply familiar in a way he’d been wracking his brain trying to recall. His inner Alpha finally figured it out when a particular song came on the jukebox, taking him back instantly to that summer when he was sixteen.

This weird little Omega with ocean blue eyes that threatened to squeeze the breath from his lungs, smelled impossibly like one of the single best memories of his life, sea salt air and caramel corn and the sundried linens in that sandy, run down beach bungalow that still featured as his stand in of a home when he let himself dream of one. It hadn’t been much to look at, belonged to one of John’s friends that had loaned it to them for a few weeks as thanks for something John had taken care of. Everything was corroded and the pipes rattled in the walls and there was no heat except for an ancient looking radiator that clicked and banged through the night like it was haunted. Sand was in their beds and in their food and Dean’s skin was always salt tight and sun warmed and both he and Sammy had gone shockingly blonde in the constant sunshine and rode bikes along the boardwalk and through back alleys that were actually clean and safe. He hadn’t had to clean up after his father there, hadn’t had to field strip guns with his skinny adolescent fingers, had gotten to hang out and teach Sam how to flirt with girls and splash in the warm Atlantic surf just like all the other normal sixteen year old kids he saw running around the beach.

Now that he realized it, he couldn’t stop scenting the Omega all over, slipping tricky fingers under hemlines and waistbands and making a pest of himself while poor Cas tried hard to finish his meal without popping an erection in public. God he felt like a teenager again, and Cas for his part was smiling and complimenting him on the choice of locale and generally making Dean feel like some kind of world class gentleman for fucking him fast and dirty in the back room of his workplace and then taking him out for burgers. It felt strangely foreign, that he could make someone happy just by being himself, he didn’t think he’d made Sammy truly happy like that in a while, and with his Dad, well, he’d just had to work _so hard_. Happy was never an accurate way of describing John at his best, more like not disappointed at the moment.

Cas laughed at his jokes and didn’t understand a goddamned thing he said about television or movies or music and gave him these sideways looks of confusion as he munched on his fries and sipped his third beer, but the whole time they sat side by side in the dark leather booth, the Omega smelled content, satisfied, just the right notes of soft sweetness and Dean’s Alpha swelled with instinctual pride that he’d been the one to cause it.

But there it was. He caused it, and he wanted to keep on causing it, but shit what was he going to do? Tell the Omega he was, for all intents and purposes, homeless and dubiously employed and the photo negative of the kind of stable Alpha one would want to claim as a mate?  He was having the best time he could recall having in ages and just that morning had called Bobby to let him know there had been a delay, very specifically opting out of giving the man a timeline for his departure. And here Cas was licking a line of foam off his upper lip and looking for all the world like he had no idea how fucking fast he could crank Dean’s gears until his nostrils flared ever so slightly at the thread of Alpha lust twining between them, and the Omega’s own caramel ocean air scent blossomed immediately and it was just so goddamned _easy_ with Cas.

“I can’t take a mate.”

Jesus, nice job on the landing Winchester.

“Ummm.” And he left Cas floundering between not knowing if he should be hurt or disappointed or sensitive to Dean’s feelings because he could have been implying this was a fucking medical condition for all the Omega knew.  All Dean knew was the Omega no longer smelled content, even as his face tried to hold onto a bit of passive cheer. “I’d like to think I’m not some kind of mate crazed Omega looking to get claimed by the first person that shows them a good time. We’re just having fun, Dean. You really don’t have to worry that I’m looking for more.”

“But that’s just it Cas, I could…with you. I mean, I know we don’t know each other and all, but part of me is pissed at myself for not biting you when I had the chance.”

And that didn’t come out right.

 “I mean… shit-“ This was spiraling out of control and all he wanted to do was laugh it off and tell Cas to ignore everything he’d said and get the man naked in the back seat of his car as soon as humanly possible. “Sammy’s the good one…. not that I’m saying you should date Sammy!” He was breaking out in a sweat. “Please don’t do that. Just that he’s the kind of Alpha you need if- if you were looking for one….is all I’m saying. He’s a doctor, and has a nice house and a…well his car is a piece of shit compared to mine, but he’s smart like you and steady and I….you don’t really know me Cas. I don’t exactly live my life on the level. You get me? I don’t think I’ve ever had a driver’s license with my real name on it, and I have a _box_ of them Cas. Do you know what kind of person has a box of fake IDs? Not someone you want to be tied to for life.”

Cas regarded him closely, so closely Dean wanted nothing more than to look away, look at anything but Cas. “Dean, did you think I’d forgotten about your acute dislike of the authorities so quickly? Or how we met?” Castiel turned to look across the bar, vacantly scanning the crowd but Dean could tell his thoughts had drifted back to that day. “It was a long time before I could convince myself that I hadn’t imagined most of it, that I wasn’t losing my mind. I’ve made peace with the idea that there are some things I can’t explain, and maybe you can, but that can wait.”

Castiel faced him now, sinking a bit in the booth and resting a warm hand on Dean’s thigh who felt it as an electric current zinging through the branches of his nerves. “I never forgot you. I have nightmares about that thing on a weekly basis, I should be battling a crippling addiction to sleeping pills right about now, but I’m not because every time it comes I remember you, how you were so calm and sure. I never thought I’d see you again, but here you are. You came to my aid when any other person would have run the other way. You took care of me and checked in on me and I’m the one that initiated our physical intimacy during which you were nothing but considerate.”

And Dean blushed because, well shit.

“I like you, Dean. Can we start with that?”

He hoped Cas didn’t notice the rough strain of his voice. At least he acted like he didn’t. “Yeah, that’d be good. I like you, too.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but some of the giddiness that had filled their conversation earlier had dissipated. Cas drained his beer and moved to steal some of Dean’s.

“So wait, Dean is your real name, correct? This isn’t some secret identity or something, is it?” Dean gave him a sly little smirk as he reclaimed his beer.

“You can’t tell anyone, Cas, but I’m Batman.”

“No, too much plaid.” Cas deadpans, and they both end up laughing together despite everything.

\---

“I can explain.”

Ellen had cuffed him on the back of the head the moment he’d walked through the door.

“Bobby’s called me twice looking for your sorry ass and wondering if something’d gone wrong considering you’ve been pushing off this Palm Desert job like there ain’t a family with a pissed off spirit tossing houseguests down the stairs.”

“Something did go wrong…uh, personally.” Ellen gave him an ‘I’ll bet’ look. “And I swear, I’ll take care of it, but I just….”

“Needed to sugar your dick with some Omega?”

“ _Don’t talk about Cas like that!_ ” The sudden flash of his Alpha fury shocked them both, he’d never lashed out at Ellen like that before. Closed his eyes and took a breath to steady himself. “I’m sorry, Ellen, but it’s not like that.”

“No? Then what is it? You tellin’ me you’re leaving the life? Cause I know you mister, and if anyone else had walked in with an Omega reeking of scent claim and sporting marks a hair away from a bite I’d say they were of a mind to settle down and make it legal. But you always gave Sam and Jo a hard time whenever they started talking mates, so all this tells me is you’re fixing to break that poor boy’s heart and you’re better than that.”

Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Just tell Bobby I’m on my way.”

\---

Castiel donned slacks and a white dress shirt and the teal tie his mother had given him for his birthday. He had a rack of them and each one had been purchased by his mother, and looking at it now he contemplated how ever since he had been eight years old she’d only ever given him what amounted to uninspired Father’s Day gifts. He chose to forego the jacket and rolled his sleeves to the elbow instead and sighed at himself in the mirror at this sad excuse at rebellion.

The cyborg was waiting for him outside the store in the gleaming black town car, but it was nine a.m. and even though Alphie had opened this morning, he’d be damned if he was going to jump right in like what he did for a living was less important. He went through last night’s receipts and organized the custom orders and placed yet another PO for the bulk materials he’d need that week. He should be glad they were so busy with the higher ticket pharmaceuticals, but he was wholly unprepared for the unrelenting demand.

“He’s just standing there.” Alphie peered out the window again with a look of uneasiness.

“That’s his job.” Castiel refused to look.

“Nobody’s going to come in with him standing there like that, it’s bad enough people think we stock weed next to the Dr. Bronner’s and chia seeds. Can you please just deal with your terrifying mother so I can come to work without Robocop freaking everyone out?”

“Fine, Alphie, I’ll deal with my terrifying mother. Garth is in at noon, tell him to clean the bathroom and stop letting non-customers use it, it’s getting disgusting.”

Alphie gave him a cheerful salute, “Oh, speaking of which, congrats on the sex!”

Castiel groaned as he trudged out to the waiting car whose door was now held open for him. He didn’t want to correct his employee that the sex had happened in his workroom, not the bathroom. Or maybe the kid was implying Garth let people back there to have sex. Neither option made him feel better. If Alphie knew then that meant Meg had called him since they hadn’t shared a shift yet. And if she told him that meant Garth knew and likely a few more of their mutual friends and probably some strangers as well.

The sedan pulled away smoothly and Castiel sank into the black leather and let himself linger on something far more pleasant than his maternal summons.

Dean had seemed a bit off last night when he’d rejoined him in the booth after speaking to Ellen. Castiel hadn’t wanted to pry, guessing whatever conversation he’d had about a sudden rut had been embarrassment enough. He’d protested when the man snatched the bill, but Dean had looked it over and chuckled, showing Castiel the total at the bottom that read “$0- Tell your hotshot brother to stop in sometime or I’m coming after him.”

“She’s very intimidating.”

“It’s scarier when you know she can back up her threats.”

They’d pulled right up to Castiel’s car in the back of the store, and Dean had shifted a bit in his seat uncomfortably before Castiel had stilled him with a kiss. It lingered, slow and sweet, until Dean pulled away.

“I have to leave town tomorrow morning, got some things I been putting off.”

Castiel said nothing.

“I want to…umm…see you again. Can I do that?”

“When will you be back?” He’d felt panic at the thinness of his voice, clichéd and utterly pathetic.

“Don’t know, week, two.” Castiel experienced an uncontrollable twist at the thought of his mate leaving for so long.

But Dean wasn’t his mate. And it was time his runaway instincts got in line with reality.

“I’m not going to wait for you Dean,” he sighed. “This has all been very strange and very sudden and I find it becoming alarmingly easy to grow attached to you. But you have secrets,” he held up his hand to stop Dean from answering, “that I don’t need you to tell me. I like you, and I _would_ like to see you again, that’s it. But I just want to make it clear that I’m not the type to sit around alone forever and await someone else’s convenience.”

Castiel had smelled the anger, watched the hackles go up and he was ashamed to admit that for one moment he considered the stereotype of the rage fueled Alpha enslaved to his primitive emotions. But Dean proved him wrong.

“I get you, Cas. You’re right, I’m not the kind of basket you wanna put your eggs into. But is there…. is there someone else?”

And the scent of his Alpha’s displeasure bloomed again and Castiel almost wanted to laugh because there had never been a time in his life when he’d been overburdened by suitors. And he may have reveled a bit in the Alpha’s jealousy.

“No, Dean. There’s no one else. In fact you’re the first person I’ve been interested in for a very long while.”

When Dean grabbed him by the face and kissed him breathless, Castiel wanted to melt and take it all back and tell Dean he would wait until the earth crumbled around them if it meant he could kiss him like that one more time.

“What about two weeks? Can you wait for me that long and then we can go from there?”

“Alright, two weeks.”

\---

The Malibu residence wasn’t large when compared to the cliff hugging palaces that surrounded it, but it had two advantages over its opulent neighbors, privacy and land. Walls and hedges and palms soaring over eighteen feet tall guarded all sides of a property that was five times the size of the other plots. Only the ocean facing side was exposed, but the hillside dropped off so steeply at just that point that countless celebrity realtors had come begging to buy, for no paparazzi on earth could have scaled it for a shot.

 The foreboding tiers of modern cement and glass blocks that made up his mother’s southern California home was a far cry from the old money Pasadena manor that Castiel had grown up in with its sagging Colonial silhouette and tangled English style garden that he would lose himself in for hours before his father called him over to see some new plant unfurl its first bud.

The black car paused at the gate, and Castiel took a moment to text Gabriel.

**C: Headed into the pit of despair.**

The reply came as they pulled up the drive.

**G: So it’s to be torture then? You can withstand torture.**

He smiled at his brother’s response, one of the only film references he understood due to the fact that Gabriel had played it on repeat for the better portion of a year when they were teenagers.

 “Thank you Inias.” When the cyborg opened his door, and for one second the man looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it, opting instead to unlock the front door and see him inside. He should have known it was a bad omen.

“Castiel, darling!” His mother stood in the foyer with open arms and greeted him with an enthusiastic kiss to each cheek. She wore a trim white pantsuit with her ever present pearls and a soft rose colored blouse that complimented her skin nicely. He was surprised, as he often was after going some time without seeing her in person, at what a handsome woman Naomi was and how she never really seemed to age. “I’ve been putting off D.C. for ages now waiting to see you! How could you keep me waiting after all that’s happened? Come into the parlor so you can tell me everything, you poor, poor boy.”

Red flag number two. His mother did not have the capacity to treat her private relationships differently than her political ones. Everything was politics, and if the pink lipstick and cool affection and maternal concern were anything to go by, the woman wanted something. His brothers had often joked that they should be allowed to vote on a candidate for ‘Mother’ every four years based on the constant electioneering and political backstabbing they were all forced to endure.

“Scotch?” Naomi glided over to the bar cart and began to pour.

“No, thank you... actually, yes.” No reason to do this sober.

“I had my lawyer give me all the details.” She began once she’d seen to the drinks and sank into the couch, “Assaulted by a pack of filthy Alphas! Oh Castiel, I’m so sorry they hurt you. But you’re feeling better now? For once I’m glad you kept your father’s name, imagine if they’d known you were my son!”

“I’m fine mother.”

“All that hard work, all your money gone!”

“My money’s not gone, they were arrested before they could make off with anything. So if this is some offer of charity…”

She stifled a surprised little _oh_ , but pushed on.

 “Well then small blessings. But you know if there’s anything you need I will be happy to take care of it. Things are only going to get worse Castiel, those people aren’t capable of having a civil dialogue about such matters, just burn and pillage the minute things don’t go their way!”

“Will you stop talking like that?! They’re just people, mother, who feel, rightfully so, that they weren’t given the _option_ of a civil dialogue! You and your colleagues have built up this theatrical farce in the media that we’re still living in the dark ages! Alphas aren’t a threat! Besides, you don’t even know if the people that robbed me _were_ Alpha, if you haven’t noticed suppressant is now in high demand, and all you’ve done is help push it’s commerce onto the black market where more people will be hurt because of it than ever were before.”

“Castiel, you’re always so willful. What I’m doing is right and I’d hoped after all this you would see that. You’re too young to remember but it really wasn’t all that long ago Omegas could be claimed like luggage and I just don’t want to see that kind of life for my children, no one does.”

Castiel downed the rest of his drink, God the woman knew how to push his buttons.

“When was the last time you heard of a forced claim? Hmm? That Arizona case with the harem? That man was declared clinically insane. This is all just an attempt to strip people of their right to privacy so that you can do a better job of marginalizing them.”

“This is pointless, Castiel, I don’t wish to fight you. I was devastated when I heard what happened.”

He did his best not to roll his eyes like a petulant child, not so devastated that she might miss one of her meetings to visit him. Or call for that matter.

“It’s such a shame they only caught the four.”  She continued, and watched him closely over the rim of her glass.

His pulse slowed, vision narrowed because he knew that tone of voice, that calculating, spider web alto that meant he’d just been played. She used that tone on all her children when the goal was to draw them out into an admission of guilt. Gabriel had been on the receiving end of it so many times he could now pass a polygraph without breaking a sweat. His words came back to Castiel now as he poured all his concentration into appearing calm.

_Admit nothing. Whatever she’s got, she’ll never give up the element of surprise, so dig in and stay sharp._

“What do you mean?”

She raised a brow at that.

“The fight Castiel. Those men told the police one of their gang members double crossed them and attacked them all to make off with the goods himself.”

Castiel’s mind spun, “They….they said that?”

“It’s all in the report, I believe I can get you a copy if you’re interested. Don’t you remember any of that? The nice young officer I spoke to had been rather disappointed you couldn’t recall any solid details.”

“I was…I was quite delirious. All I remember was being attacked and a commotion and then waking in the hospital.”

“Hmm, yes, that’s what the report said. I’d been hoping you might have recalled more now that you’ve had some time to rest.”

“There’s nothing more to remember. And my understanding was those four men skipped town the minute they made bail, so all told they don’t sound like the most trustworthy people to me.”

“Yes but there were photos taken at the station, all of them suffered a great deal of injury, one of them was even _stabbed_ , if you can imagine. And they all gave the same description, over six feet, light hair, muscular build, definitely an Alpha. Any of that sound familiar?”

Naomi always played her cards close to the vest, if she was telling him this much it was a near certainty she knew more than she was letting on. She was baiting him, and for the life of him he couldn’t understand why. Anger and panic swirled through his veins, shaking his hands and threatening to give him away. He made a point to cross the room for another drink so she wouldn’t notice.

“Why would that be familiar? I told you, I barely remember anything after they attacked me.” The scotch burned his throat but steadied his hands, he just had to be sure he stayed sober enough to keep his wits.

“Well, no matter. I’m sure they’ll find him eventually. People like that are sure to have a criminal record.”

Castiel willed himself to hold her gaze and shrug like none of that mattered to him in the least.

“Which brings me to my next point. You aren’t the only person that’s been a victim of these recent troubles. The OAP have been talking to several national news stations and they want to do a series of interviews about the recent crimes. We’ve contacted a number of the innocent people affected by this unfortunate situation who want to show how they’ve been standing strong in the face of adversity. It wasn’t my personal choice, but the board of the OAP believes that it would be particularly effective if you were to play a central role in this broadcast.”

How he managed to stop himself from throwing the glass across the room Castiel would never know. With a voice barely more than a growl he turned on her.

“Wasn’t your personal choice? You really expect me to believe that? I’m surprised you didn’t pull a muscle jumping with glee when you heard your own son was now a shiny new puppet you could wave in front of the cameras!”

“Darling don’t pout, is this because I didn’t come see you in the hospital? I was in Sacramento at the time and I had my people call to check in on your progress every day. I knew you would be fine and you are. Besides, there’s money in this for you Castiel, _and_ the knowledge that you’d be doing the good people out there a service.”

“I don’t want OAP slush fund money, and what service would I be doing that isn’t anathema to everything I believe? I _sell_ suppressant, mother, that’s why I was I was robbed, I wasn’t just some Omega victim of Alpha aggression.”

“Firstly, the money would be coming from the networks, so take it or leave it, it doesn’t matter to me. Second, I am well aware that your questionable life choices have made you a target for violence, and as your mother I would hope that you might want to reflect on how that affects your family. I was hoping you would stand by me in seeing that no more people are hurt.”

He could feel the veins bulging in his neck, didn’t miss the ghost of a smile that breezed across her face.

“Or we could go the other route, talk to the criminals and find out their side of things.”

“You mean plaster felons across the screen and paint all Alphas with the same brush.”

“I have investigators out there now looking for them. Who knows, maybe they’ll find our missing man?”

\---

Storming off was probably not the best way to handle things. Naomi treated emotion as a weakness and was no doubt sitting smugly in the parlor, calmly sipping her drink and considering this round won. But he just had to get out of there before he started shouting. Before he said something stupid.

But this goddamned place was made entirely of glass and right outside every window was another brute with an earpiece watching him. Castiel stalked into the only private room in the house on this floor, the office.

He locked himself inside and pulled out his phone, angry enough to consider calling Gabriel for moral support. But if he was being honest, it wasn’t the anger that was making him shaky, it was the very real panic that Naomi somehow knew Dean had been there that night, even if she didn’t yet know who he was. And if her intention really was to track him down, he could be sure her motivations went beyond simple maternal justice.

And whatever past Dean was hiding from, whatever crimes he may have committed, no one deserved to be on the sharp end of Naomi’s stick. And she seemed sure he was holding something back, sure that he knew more than he was telling, but what was she playing at? His mind churned a maelstrom but it didn’t make sense. He was just getting worked up again over her request that he sell himself out to the cable news stations as a personal favor to her political career, when his phone buzzed with a new text, startling him so quickly from his thoughts he dropped it in surprise.

Castiel dropped to his knees to retrieve it from where it had fallen under the bookcase and that’s when he spotted the photo.

Despite the minimal decor of the rest of the house, Naomi’s office was quite cluttered with the accessories of life as a public servant. Awards, art, countless books stacked together at odd angles, trinkets and photos in mismatched frames. The fake gold leaf frame in his hands was covered in dust, it had probably been relegated to the bottom shelf years ago to make room for something more important and forgotten. His mother looked exactly the same, though she hadn’t worn her hair that shade of brown in years. She was smiling, front and center in a black sequin dress next to an opulent table in what looked to be a banquet hall. The group of people crowding in close for the photo were similarly attired and smiling and one of them had an arm around Naomi’s waist, his cheek pressed against her own.

With trembling hands, Castiel removed the photo from the frame, still trying to find a way to explain what he was seeing. On the back in neat black print was written **2010 Omegas for American Prosperity Platinum Donors**. Beneath that a list of names, right to left, clearly identifying the familiar man embracing his mother.

Zachariah Adler.


	6. Chapter 6

There was soot in his eyelashes, soot greasy thick painting every surface inch of bare skin, gritting abrasive between his teeth. He’d had to scrub and rinse three times before the water in the tub had run off his aching body clear.

In the silence of his motel room, the red glow of the digital clock shining 3:47am, matching streams of neon red bleeding through the curtains and underneath the door from the bar across the street, Dean slouched at the end of the bed in his boxers, nursing another beer.

This job in particular had devolved into the kind of FUBAR shit show that seemed tailor made to find all his soft joints and twist. The sweet brunette Omega that had offered him lemonade and peach cobbler as a means to hold onto some veneer of normalcy. Her two young boys, one no more than eight with suspicious eyes who’d held onto the toddler’s hand as he moved from room to room, being sure to keep himself between this Alpha stranger with a badge and his baby brother. And with no mate about, Dean could see the tiny furrow in that kid’s brow where he’d already determined he needed to protect his family as the man of the house.

And this ghost- _ghosts_ plural- had died ugly and come back pissed and the frightened little family hadn’t even made it two months before people started landing in the hospital with missing limbs. All the victims had been men, friends and relatives coming by to visit, which was a small blessing since it meant the spirits seemed uninterested in the mother and her children.

When they’d been alive, some motherfucker had chopped them apart and put them _in the walls_. It had taken him nearly a week to figure out that much and there was just no way he could be sure to get it all for a proper salt and burn, nevermind that this house had only been built ten years ago so it was more than likely whoever had decided to go all Chainsaw Massacre of Amontillado was out there somewhere…. and fuck he really didn’t want to be the one to work the case if some day they found another place like this.

So he’d called in every local hunter and pulled off a phony gas leak and lit the match himself.

In the dark, he sat on the bed and readied himself for the waves of guilt that usually came with something like this, and made sure that when he pictured the little boys as they stood next to the charred ruin of their home, his imaginary self assured them this was getting off easy since their mother was still around to hold them close that night and they didn't have to live out their days knowing just what had caused all this misery.

But the guilt never came. Instead all he thought about was Cas, and how much time he might get with the man before Bobby called with another spot on the map.

It was only a few hours to LA, and he should really get some sleep right now but this _itch_ had been inchworming its way under his skin for days, scratching at the back of his brain with the need to see the Omega, hold him, touch him, knot him. And it was crazy, he was utterly fucking aware of how crazy it sounded even in the privacy of his own head, but right now Cas was walking around smelling like aerosolized caramel sex _without_ his Alpha scent claim to ward off interest. And those cherry purple bruises in the shape of his mouth were probably all faded away by now and there were unspeakable fucking crimes happening all over the country right this second but none of them seemed as heinous as the thought of Castiel out of reach and _available_.

Which was how, fifteen minutes later, Dean found himself speeding past bone white desert windmills in the almost light before sunrise, the steady comfort of his baby devouring miles, the long delicious stretch of road a slick black line cutting through the scrubby grey-brown hills. He didn’t see any of it, he couldn’t even remember packing, though he trusted implicitly in his ability to break camp and get gone without a trace in the speed of a magnesium flash.

It was almost 6:30am by the time Dean rolled up outside Castiel’s house, drivethru breakfast steaming on the front seat. Just being here eased most of the tension from his shoulders, so he leaned back and peeled open the wrapper on his greasy biscuit sandwich because it was far too early to text let alone knock on the door, and he still needed to figure out a way to explain to Castiel how he’d managed to track down the man’s home address (seeing as the one on his current license was outdated) without sounding like a creepy stalker. Which, yes, he was legitimately acting like right now but he didn’t have anywhere else to be and it was surprisingly easy to rationalize with a quick, _but you’re not a stalker Dean, so it’s ok_.

By 7am he was debating the odds that Cas might be an earlier riser as he fiddled with the draft of a text on his phone, changing it from the possibly unsettling - _Hey Cas, look outside your window,_ to the much more sane - _I’m back in town_.

Not three seconds after he hit send, there was a knock at the window. Dean rolled it down and plastered on his most casual smile.

“Morning, Officer, there a problem?”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask what you’re doing here.”

“Car pool pick up, just doing my part for the environment.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”

\---

It wasn’t until Castiel poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the well-polished table with its high backed Shaker style chairs, that he checked his phone, gut tight with the prospect of having to see yet another formally worded request from his mother to consider the interviews, and saw the text from Dean.

_I’m back in town._

And just like that the granite colored weight that had been pressing him from all sides was lifted. Dean had returned, and he could finally tell the man what he’d found, what had been eating at him constantly since that fateful visit with his mother. He noted the time, it had been sent over an hour ago, and it sent a warm little thrill through Castiel when he considered how Dean must have texted him the moment he arrived in town. Castiel was just about to ask him where he was when a knock came at his door.

“Castiel Novak?”

Despite the uniformed police officer standing full in his doorway, the very first thing that caught Castiel’s eye was the gleaming black Impala, parked directly in front of his house at the end of the walkway.

His heart stopped.

“Yes?”

“I’m Officer Torren,” The man flashed his badge. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but a man fitting the description of one of your attackers was found loitering around your property this morning. I would ask that you come down to the station to see if you might be able to identify him.”

“I’m sorry, but are you referring to the men you released on bail and then promptly lost?”

 _Just remember to keep your goddamned facts straight_ , again in Gabriel’s voice. And when did his brother become the voice of criminal reason in his head?

“Sir, can you please just follow me to the station? Officer Bradley, who I believe you are familiar with, will likely have a few follow up questions after the lineup.”

“Alright, certainly. But would you mind giving me a moment? I need to gather a few things and feed the cat. I’ll meet you out front.”

With that he closed the door in the officer’s face and walked as calmly as he could upstairs so that he could shut himself into the bedroom for a solid minute of freaking the fuck out. A cat?! Why the fuck had he lied like that? Could you go to jail for falsifying pet ownership to a police officer?

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!_

He had bought himself five minutes, maybe ten with that cat bullshit. Dean was being held at the precinct under what he could only assume was a false identity. One that wouldn’t likely hold up under close inspection by the cops. Time to do possibly the stupidest, but clearly the only thing he could do in light of the situation. He dialed the number.

“Angelface! What are you doing for lunch? A client just gave me a case of Veuve because apparently they’re under the impression it’s still 2001 and I’m on my way to a third rate Fashion Week after party. Come over and help me get the new batch of interns drunk.”

“Gabriel, I need your help.”

\---

Even the ‘gritty’ cop shows never really got the atmosphere of a bustling metropolitan precinct right. It was loud, and chaotic and smelled of sour burnt coffee and floor polish. The even wash of florescent light gave everything a sallow sheen, casting tired shadows on the faces of the life worn officers and the life worn convicts alike. Everyone was talking, or yelling or shifting and shuffling about the corridors or office space, it was drab and unrestful, and as Castiel was led down a hallway past a bench where three young men were handcuffed to the seat, he got the same sense of endless dread he got when settling in for an afternoon at the DMV. It was enough to put anyone off a life of crime.

Officer Torren showed him to a cramped yellow room and told him to have a seat before closing the door behind him as he left. The table was scuffed and there was a metal ring embedded on his side. There was a two way mirror against one wall and he tried not to think about the prospect of someone standing on the other side. Watching him.

Acting casual was proving difficult.

He checked his phone. Fifteen minutes later he checked it again.

The door clicked open and he recognized Officer Bradley, behind him an impossibly young looking plainclothes officer in an oversized suit. They both took a seat across from him and Castiel noticed a file in the younger officer’s hands, also noting how the man didn’t open or refer to its contents as they spoke.

“Good morning Mr. Novak, thank you for joining us. I wanted to give you some information about why you’re here and walk you through what’s about to happen, then I can answer any questions you may have.”

“Alright.”

“You’re not in any trouble.” The man gave a practiced laugh clearly designed to diffuse tension.

“I didn’t think I was.”

“Good! Great. So as you may have been informed, a man matching police description of one of your assailants was seen in the vicinity of your home. In a moment we’re going to take you into another room where there will be a lineup. All you need to do is look carefully at each person and let us know if any of them look familiar. Now, you are under no obligation to pick one, we simply want to know if you recognize any of them. Is that clear?”

“Officer Bradley, if I may ask, I’ve already identified the men who robbed me from the photos you brought to the hospital. Why do you need me to do this again in person?” Careful now….

“Now there’s no need to be nervous, but it came to light that another member of their crew, we’re thinking a wheelman, tried to turn the tables on them and got away. We’ve been asked to keep an eye on both your place of residence and your business. Now, the man in custody claims he was waiting for a coworker but we didn’t want to take a chance.”

“Alright, but for what it’s worth, I really don’t recall there being a fifth man.”

“Well let’s go see, shall we?”

Down another corridor, past a restroom with caution tape across the frame and a sign taped to it reading “Fuck you sideways Carl” scrawled in sharpie, just as the two men began to slow near  the appointed room, Castiel smelled it. Over the sweat and treacle stench from the holding cell housing that night’s crop of Omega prostitutes, it was the warm curl of leather char wood. It was Dean. Castiel’s heart immediately started pounding in his chest. Where was he? Could he see him? He needed to see him. Wait. Shit he was going to see him right now, behind glass.

A bead of sweat rolled behind his ear and down beneath the collar of his shirt. His hole began to leak and clench of its own accord.

The room was small and dark and one more officer was waiting inside next to a microphone branching out from the wall. This two way mirror was larger than the last room, the room beyond lit bright and empty.

But it wasn’t, or it wouldn’t be. Dean was close, he could smell him. _Alpha_ his hindbrain whined, and it was taking more and more effort not to start panting.

 _Alpha Alpha Alpha_.

“We can start.” Officer Bradley said.

“Please step forward and face front.” The officer spoke flatly into the microphone, and Castiel watched a single file of men shuffle in and turn to face him.

There he was, #4. Dean looked tired, and pissed and- and….gorgeous. And Castiel drew in a quick breath and took a step closer to the glass.

“Now just take your time.”

“Number one step forward.” The officer intoned.

All of the men were only vaguely similar in coloring and build, some older, some younger, one a cop who had obviously been tossed in last minute to round out the numbers but had been too lazy to properly hide the badge clipped to his belt. Castiel turned his head to give the illusion he was considering each face carefully, but really he was watching Dean from the periphery of his vision. The Alpha was perfectly, unnaturally still, his hands twitching occasionally with his effort not to ball them into fists. There was tension in his shoulders and neck and lips and Castiel didn’t need to look full at him to see the way his nostrils flared and breathing became deep and even.

The Alpha could smell him too.

Castiel bit his lip, then rethought the gesture.

“Number four step forward.”

And the moment Dean moved just that little bit closer a pulse of slick spilled from Castiel and dripped down the back of his thigh. Castiel went nearly woozy with his effort to remain neutral, trying to limit movement so as not to let the backs of his pants stick to his legs with the dampness. His heart rate spiked erratically, what if these officers could tell somehow? Shit he was sweating, he looked guilty, he knew it. But somehow he made it to the end of the lineup and managed to turn and look Officer Bradley calmly in the eye.

“I’m sorry, I don’t recognize any of these people.” The benefit of having a voice that deep was it never really reached a nervous sounding pitch, even as his hands were shaking.

“Are you certain, would you like to go over the line again?”

Castiel sighed and it was one of the few times he was thankful for being surrounded by the overly rich and frequently bored growing up because it was shockingly easy to channel his mother’s polite distain when he answered. “Officer, I do appreciate you working so hard on this, but are we done here? I have to get to work.”

“I just have a few more questions before you go, follow me please.”

Through the mirrored glass, he could feel Dean’s eyes searching him out. With a monumental amount of difficulty, Castiel managed to stroll out of the room without looking back one last time. Who was he kidding? He was one fragile hair away from breaking free and pounding on the glass, screaming the Alpha’s name, wetting his fingers with his own slick and painting himself with it so the Alpha could find him. This hunger to claw his way through the dry wall to get to him was dialing up higher and higher the longer he was near the Alpha but not _with_ him.

Officer Bradley showed him back into the yellow interrogation room, this time without the accompaniment of the younger officer. Castiel took a seat and made a point of checking the time on his phone, a look of carefully subdued irritation ghosting across his face. Beneath him the fabric of his pants was soaked, they were going to have to wipe down the seat after he left. Officer Bradley was talking again, but it was becoming increasingly hard to focus, Gabriel should be here soon, where was he? Would Dean play along? Please just let this work, please please please…

“Mr. Novak?” Castiel jerked up and looked at the blurry features of the man in front of him.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Are you feeling alright? Not to be indelicate but…is this your…. time?  Of the month?”

This couldn’t possibly be happening again, please if there is a God in Heaven let this just be the start of the flu.

Like the flu makes you dripping wet and aching for a giant knot. Ramming against your sore, overstretched hole, forcing it wider, locking into place so you can’t move, you just have to take it. God he wants that so much right now, right on this desk. Fuck Dean had felt so good inside him, so good but it wasn’t enough it wasn’t-

“Sir?”

“I’m- forgive me, I didn’t want to say anything this morning, but you caught me at an inopportune time….” He trailed off, licking his dry feeling lips and fighting the urge to bury his head in his arms and whine. He must be stinking up the room right now, and it would be mortifying if he had anything left in him that cared. “I thought I could…. hold off, but…”

“I’m _very_ sorry sir,” The man suddenly stammering with embarrassment. “If you prefer we can make an appointment for another time. And just so you are aware, the law indicates that any Omega experiencing the stages of heat is not required to comply with an investigation until said time when their cycle is complete.”

“No, I can,” He swayed a bit in his chair. This man smelled wrong, a Beta. Cinnamon and- and peanut butter, it was giving him a headache. All wrong. He needed Dean. Dean- Dean was here somewhere, maybe he should ask this man where Dean was. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as another, stronger wave of heat rolled in. Fuck you, body. You traitorous, needy whore of a collection of parts. God, Dean was going to get arrested because Castiel couldn’t get within five feet of the man before turning into exhibit A of _How to be a slutty Omega bitch_. “I can continue as long as it’s brief.”

“Sir I don’t-“

Castiel held up a hand and then drunkenly slapped it down on the table a little too hard. “You- there were four men that attacked me, one, two, three, _four_.” He was deliriously happy that he had managed to count that far. “And I don’t remember much after one of them _kicked me in the head_. But if one of their compatriots or a passerby or the resurrected corpse of John Wayne Gacy in a clown suit beat the ever loving shit out of those men then, honestly Officer, all I want to do is buy that man a beer.”

“I understand, but-“

“Jeff!” The door swung open. Gabriel, despite his smaller stature and aggressively familiar nature, knew how to make an intimidating entrance. His suit was nearly indecently tight, overly shiny and clearly cost more than it had to erect the room they were standing in. Every white tooth glinted in his smile as he blew in on the tornado of his charisma, dropping the honey colored briefcase on the table with enough carelessness to draw attention to the luxuriously patterned cover that had obviously belonged to something far more exotic than some boring old alligator. “You know why I think about you when I touch myself? It’s because every idiotic thing you do makes my firm money.”

Officer Bradley ground his teeth audibly. “If you’re here for Mr. Novak we were just- wait-“ And even through the haze of his delirium Castiel could appreciate the way the officer blanched when he made the connection. “Oh God please tell me…”

“That this handsome bastard is my brother? Ding ding ding! Cindy tell him what he’s won!”

Officer Bradley ran a hand over his face and looked a bit green around the gills. “Jesus this day…just take him Gabriel and get the fuck out.”

Gabriel slipped an arm around Castiel’s back and hauled him to his feet, wrinkling his nose at the now overwhelming scent of Omega heat roiling off his brother’s skin. “Jeff, always a pleasure.” He wheeled Castiel towards the door, scooping up his unopened briefcase in the other hand and spinning them once they got into the hall like a couple of tipsy revelers. “And if I find you’ve done a single thing outside the letter of the law with my baby brother I will dry fuck your asshole until you beg me to spit on you. Toodles!”

For someone as manicured and elegant as Gabriel could appear when in full polish, he was remarkably strong and twice as fierce. Without releasing his grip on Castiel’s waist, he propelled them full tilt through the station, growling, “Not a fucking word,” with enough venom to stopper his brother’s obvious protest.

“They know me here Cassie,” he hissed as they rounded another corner. “Do you understand? Kali is here taking care of your friend, because they _know_ me.”

There was something he was implying or- threatening? God Castiel’s head was swimming because Gabriel was supposed to have come to spring Dean and now… now…

The double doors loomed ahead, and with it freedom, all that was left was for Gabriel to sign out. The counter was high, but not high enough to obscure the open room beyond with its traffic jam of desks and chairs at odd angles. And sitting slumped not fifteen feet from him was Dean, back instantly shooting poker straight when they stopped, head tilting left and right as he tracked the source of the scent that was no doubt hitting him square in the face. Castiel couldn’t look away, let out a fractured breath that wasn’t a sound but still, somehow, betrayed his location. Dean was looking at him now with an otherworldly flame igniting his green eyes. He made to stand, push past the dark haired woman in the white suit and Hermes scarf that was flirting with the officer behind the desk, her one hand pressed firmly on Dean’s shoulder, holding him in place. But Gabriel had just finished the final flourish on his three inch scrawl of a signature when he looked up and realized what was about to go down.

“How close are you to losing it?” He whispered tight in his brother’s ear.

“I-I-“

“Shit. Right. Let’s move.”


	7. Chapter 7

He didn’t remember taking the precinct steps two at a time, didn’t remember getting shoved into the passenger seat of Gabriel’s car or taking off or pulling into the parking lot of an industrial park fifteen minutes later. All he knew was that they had _left Dean_. He’d called Gabe begging him to help the Alpha and his brother had dragged _him_ out and they’d _left_. Castiel wheeled around to scream when the sound of another car parking beside them cut him off.

“The fuck I will!” Came a familiar voice and Castiel felt ready to explode with relief. The back door of his brother’s car was thrown open and Dean launched himself across the seats, barely pausing to right himself before he had Castiel’s seatbelt unbuckled and was dragging the Omega roughly over the console and into his lap. And Christ this man could execute a plan fast because he had one hand in Cas’ hair, and one sliding down the back of his soaking pants, pulling the Omega against him hard to rut and grind his swollen cock against the thin fabric between them, all before Castiel had managed to gasp out the man’s name.

Kiss was too delicate a word, writhing and moaning against one another they each did their best to suck the very air from each other’s lungs. Castiel rocked his hips in jutting little circles, licking into the hot biting mouth of his Alpha and shoving the man’s shirt up around his armpits because there was too much fucking _clothing_ on them. His hands skimmed schizophrenic patterns over the burning ridges of his abs as Dean sucked at his neck with deadly purpose, remarking the pale skin with the bruises it had forgotten.

“No penetration in the Jag!” Gabe screamed at them, and Castiel had never, ever been an exhibitionist, but he was miles beyond ready for Dean to just rip open the seat of his pants at the seam and spear him on his fat throbbing cock.

So he told him as much, all but begging the Alpha to do it as he bit sharp teeth in the man’s earlobe.

“Dean this isn’t really the-“

“You got ten minutes Sam,” Dean growled, and Sam was here? “That’s all I got then this is happening.”

The smoke and clove notes in the Alpha’s scent were overpowering, a rut pheromone icepick to the brain killing every impulse that wasn’t _fuckthismannow_.

“Dean!” Sam shouted through the passenger window, “This is serious!”

Castiel leaned back so he could unbutton his white shirt, tie already unknotted and hanging lopsided from his neck. He only managed half the buttons before Dean was yanking it down past his shoulders, trapping his arms at his sides and licking one wide stripe from Castiel’s sternum to his chin like a fucking porn star.

“Nine and a half.” He growled before taking ownership of Castiel’s mouth.

“Oh Jesus…just-“ Gabriel revved the engine, “Follow me and keep up.”

Doors were slamming and tires were squealing and Castiel would have cracked his head against the window if Dean didn’t have the reflexes of a cat, cupping his hand against the Omega’s head just as they made the hard turn so that it cushioned the blow. And all the while Castiel arched and rocked and worked his hips down on the obscene line of Dean’s erection, rock hard and so thick it was making Castiel’s mouth water.

“Baby, God you don’t fucking know- thought I was going to kill a cop when I smelled you. Waited so long, need to get you on my knot.”

“Yes!”

That was an excellent idea. Castiel grappled with his own shirt, yanking it from his body and setting to work on quickly and violently divesting Dean of his pants.

“NO! No one’s knotting anyone in my motherfucking car, I just had it detailed!”

Another hard turn, acceleration, slammed breaks until Dean was sprawled out across the backseat and Castiel was jammed in the foot well, sucking hungrily at the damp denim covering Dean’s straining cock. There was almost literally nothing that could have slowed the momentum of their actions, nothing except maybe the car screeching to a halt and Gabriel racing to unlock the back door of his house, running back and throwing the car door open. Castiel popped up like a meercat, looking over his shoulder at this intrusive brother of his, utterly confused why he shouldn’t mate with his gorgeous Alpha right here, right now.

“Go! Be free you little fuck monsters!” And when they only blinked at him and Dean began to growl, Gabriel gestured back and forth between the car and the house. “Guest room!  Get your asses into the _guest room_!”

_Yes_ , Castiel thought, a house with a bed, he could tie with his Alpha on a bed . He lunged, bit Dean on the pec hard enough to mark and then bolted from the car, the last remaining brain cells not currently in a mating frenzy ensuring the Alpha would follow with the promise of a chase.

He didn’t need to look, could hear Dean roaring and thrashing his way out of the car, Castiel tearing up the drive into the house, dodging furniture, heart ready to explode because this…this complete shutdown of everything but his most basic instincts, was so electrifying, so- so final. _This is it_ , he thought, without really understanding what _it_ was.

“Guest room!” Came another desperate sounding shout from somewhere miles away.

Heavy footsteps pounded after him, and Castiel didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Up the stairs, around the bannister, down the hall and he was there, twisting suddenly to wrench open the door as Dean rocketed past him, overshooting and skidding to a halt as the Omega made it through into the interior. The door swung back hard under the force of Castiel’s hand, but in the next moment it was kicked open, knob shaped hole stamped into the wall, then slammed closed. Castiel didn’t even get the chance to turn around before Dean tackled him to the bed face down, knees braced against the Omega’s hips, arms held in the manacles of Dean’s hands as his teeth came down on the joint of Castiel’s neck, worrying the flesh and pressing him into the mattress, shaking him, clamping down over and over on the meat of his neck, making it clear the Alpha had him pinned and expected the Omega to go lax.

Castiel immediately complied, muscles slack, his Alpha was surrounding him, trapping him, protecting him. All he wanted was to lay himself out and be good for the Alpha.

Frantic hands plunged beneath Castiel’s belly and tore open the belt, trousers, all while the strong jaw of the Alpha held the Omega in place. The drenched black pants were ripped from his hips but Dean still wouldn’t release his hold, hooking a booted foot into the waistband to push them down the rest of the way off Castiel’s legs while his hands made equally quick work of his own jeans, and Castiel was overwhelmingly grateful that this man was apparently a sexual multitasking savant. The smell of so much slick, pulsing and pulsing from the trembling pink hole to trail matching lines down Castiel’s thighs had Dean growling, and Castiel felt his final holdout brain cells surrender to the animal lust that had him drunk and reeling with want. He couldn’t wait, worked his hands back around to grab the slippery flushed cheeks of his ass and spread them apart.

“Now Alpha, please..need you!”

That did the trick, Dean released the grip of his teeth to shift back, working both thumbs inside to stretch Castiel open as wide as he dared, watching with snarling greed at the quivering pink walls and the exhale gush of clear honeyed slick spilling over. So much…all for him.

“Mine.” Dean barely sounded human, plunging his long velvet tongue in as far as he could, swirling, lapping, nibbling at the tender rim until Castiel’s screams finally broke through his consciousness.

“Knot me knot me, don’t just fucking- FUCK!” Dean had bit down so hard on Castiel’s right cheek the Omega was in serious danger of coming right then. It had to be wrong somehow, to love this so much, to need in his blood this Alpha to take and take hard, one piece at a time, nothing left unmarked. Two fingers, thick with callouses, plunged into him, thrusting deep, searching out his prostate, causing Castiel to scream when they found it and then making every effort to avoid that spot again all while building and building on the pleasure until Castiel was shocked at the wetness on his face, realizing it was tears.

“Pleeeeease….. Alpha! Dean! Make me, make me come!”

“No! I’m only touching that with my cock, you understand? You’re gonna wait till you can take four of my fingers and then I’m going to fuck the goddamn come out of you with my cock alone. So you tell me, tell me when you’re ready for more.”

“Ready now! More!” It was holy miracle they should preach a hundred years from now. The day Castiel Novak, body and mind liquefied by this stunning, perfect Alpha with eight pounds of dick and a voice that held the fucking launch codes to his orgasm, managed to speak words. Another finger was added, and the Omega dug nail marks into this own skin and rocked back hard, willing his body to open faster because every second unknotted was unacceptable.

“That’s right, baby, get yourself open for me, show me how bad you need this.” He twisted his hand and Castiel moaned and shook. “Look so good like this, wanting it so bad. Can barely wait to get in you, fill you up till you only know my name and my knot.”

“Deeean….. _more_ ,” he panted, and Dean didn’t argue that it was too soon, though under normal circumstances he might. Somewhere under a tarp in each of their minds they were aware that something here wasn’t normal but were too far gone to consider that for a moment. Dean screwed in his pinky, it was so tight it set his teeth gnashing in protest that it still wasn’t his cock. He pumped them in and out slow until he could spread his fingers in a line, slick running down his arm, the rosy rim sucking him deeper, lipping over his knuckles until he was hypnotized by it, panting and so hard his dick was furious purple and throbbing. Had he told the Omega he would wait for his signal? Couldn’t remember, but the man beneath him had given up speaking, just shook and whimpered as he rocked so hard on Dean’s hand the muscles on his forearm bulged under the strain of keeping in place. His Omega needed him, was quivering so pretty and it was cruel of Dean to deny him anymore, they had both waited so long.

It was barely a second, if it could even be counted, between Dean pulling out his fingers and pressing the bulbous head of his shaft to the soft, wet hole, sliding into that glorious- _fuck_ \- just _perfect_ tightness and he could feel Castiel’s heartbeat through the stretched smooth skin of his erection. His Omega keened loudly, arching back against him and that was all it took. Dean held the man’s neck, pinning his head to the bed while his other hand yanked the Omega’s hips up and back into his cock, admired the long writhing line of Castiel’s pale, muscled back as he presented. Right now, this was his, and holy shit was Dean every going to take it. Pounding into that slippery heat as hard as he could, hipbones sinking into the magnificent round globes of his ass, balls slapping wildly as Dean grunted and growled and cursed the pure white bliss that was coiling up through him and turning him into something far more animal than he had ever been. And there had been times, gun oil, sweat and blood times when he had been more Alpha than man with the scars to remind him, but never like this. Never broken down and unstoppable and alive and worthy. This moaning, blue-eyed angel fisting the covers and taking his dick like it was the only thing in the world that he needed, made him feel- feel-

“Oh _fuuUUUuck_ right there Dean! Dean! Dean!”  Every single thrust punched a shout from his Omega and it was going straight to his knot, now swelling and catching.

“You’re gonna take my knot now sweetheart. Want you to come on it, come on my fucking knot baby.”

Dean slammed home, locking into place, Castiel’s channel constricting, milking an orgasm from Dean that felt endless. His knot ground down on Castiel’s prostate, and that, coupled with the hot splash of the Alpha’s come filling him pushed Cas over the edge. It was too much, coming and coming and coming, his own neglected cock spilling ropes of sticky white across the ruined sheets. The Omega went slack, totally boneless and collapsed flat on his stomach, but Dean kept thrusting shallow into his sweat slicked body. As soon as Dean finished coming he was coming again, he had to fill his mate full, load after load, Castiel’s own body was slowing down, shifting into a stage of hormone drunk repose so that his Omega could better receive his Alpha’s semen. But Dean had other plans, rolled them to their sides on the bed and began to stroke Cas’ oversensitive dick, causing him to squirm and moan, trying to get away from the insistent touch but only impaling himself deeper on Dean’s knot.

“Want a little more from you, Cas. Wanna wring you dry and fill you back up with just me.” Dean licked at his neck, sucked and bit at the already purple skin there until Castiel grew hard again in his hand, then jacked him quick and skillful, driving his hips in short hard thrusts until, with a surprised _hah hah ahh_ , he had the Omega gasping and coming again, clamping down on Dean’s knot and wringing another wave of come from his body.

The two of them were asleep almost immediately, tangled and tied, too exhausted to notice the tremors that shook them both, an hour’s worth of fading orgasms they were too overcome to enjoy.

\---

 

“What is this?”

The sound system, like everything else in the house, was top of the line. Seamlessly hidden speakers and subwoofers that were currently blanketing the entire living room with chirping and low throaty hoots and the buzzy clack drone of insects.

“Relaxing Sounds of the Jungle. This way if we hear screaming monkey sex you and I can realistically pretend it’s part of the rich tapestry of animal sounds created to transport us to lush jungle tropics, and not our brothers doing unspeakable things on my new Frette linens.”

“Oh God.” Sam sank his significant frame into the deep seated leather Chesterfield, burying his head in his hands. Gabriel fussed about the kitchen, humming to himself and clattering the glassware, cursing that he couldn’t find the bitters. Twenty minutes later he sashayed into the living room, finding Sam exactly as he’d left him. “I don’t think the sound effects are loud enough.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a black belt in distraction.” Gabe placed a large wood tray on the coffee table, laden with an impressive looking cheese platter, antipasto, a just warmed baguette and a pitcher of something that was about to get Sam drunk just off the fumes. Gabe wasted no time pouring the amber beverage into two crystal rocks glasses, each with a rough cut boulder of ice. “Chin chin darling. It means penis in Japanese.”

Sam tried not to smile but failed. “What is it?”

“Old Fashions. It’s the fun of a craft project with the curative properties of bourbon.”

“I don’t think these are supposed to come in a pitcher.” There must have been a whole orange and a full jar of maraschino cherries floating in there, and the first sip confirmed that it was tooth rottingly sweet cut with almost no water, but thankfully balanced by a great deal of bitters. Gabriel, though, plunked two more sugar cubes into his from a small bowl. Sam grimaced through the first few sips but found he developed a tolerance for it immediately. He drained his glass and Gabriel was at the ready with a refill. “My family never saw the point in wasting good drinking time mixing cocktails.”

Gabe eyed him and smiled but it was more predatory than kind and Sam looked around the exquisitely expensive home cluttered with mountains of books and got the very distinct feeling that he was somehow terribly outmatched at something.

“Well they may be my family soon too, no? So why don’t you tell me about them. Or more particularly, about Dean.”

“Now wait, we don’t know if they’ll- look, ok, I know this looks bad. Your brother calling you up to help some Alpha you’ve never heard of stay out of jail, and thank you, by the way, for calling me. Gabriel, I know circumstances are sending you the exact wrong impression, but Dean’s not the kind of guy to just….how do I explain this with the least amount of people stabbing me? Dean has….he’s never been on suppressant.” He began carefully, starting small to see what Gabe could take. When the lithe Omega only arched a brow and re-crossed his legs, Sam continued. “Let’s just say my father wouldn’t allow it. He had his reasons, which have become Dean’s reasons too.”

“But not yours?” Sam had the boilerplate denial at the ready but Gabe waved a dismissive hand at him. “You may have normal people fooled, or maybe everyone’s bullshit civility has lulled you into thinking if you’re on the pill people won’t know. And I _know_ the HR department at a place like that hospital isn’t allowed to outright ask, so as long as everyone tows ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ it’s kosher all around, but what I do for a living means I can spot a presentation at 300 yards, and you sir, are _hilarious_ if you think I can’t tell you’re an Alpha.”

“I- yes, I am. And to answer your question, no, his reasons are not my reasons. Not anymore.”

“And might I ask-“

“No,” Sam answered emphatically, “No you may not.”

“Interesting.” Gabriel poured himself another drink.

“But as I was saying, he’s never been on suppressant, but he’s never, _ever_ wanted a mate. I know people think if we’re not drugged up to our eyeballs we’ll mate with anyone we sleep with, but that’s not actually the case, you know. And Dean’s sort of married to his job, so whatever this is, let me reassure you that he’s not going to bite your brother just because he knots him.” Just saying that had Sam pulling a face and killing his drink. “We’ll just let them get this out of their system and hope they let us talk some sense into them.”

“Alright, well pressing pause on your brute of a sibling for a moment, and believe me we’re coming back to all that, but he isn’t up there defiling the shit out of _himself_. Now a week ago I would have bet good money that Castiel would die a bachelor, but I have never seen him like this. You weren’t in the car, my shy, awkward brother, who once told me in all seriousness that he might like to see that movie about Regan’s Strategic Defense Initiative because everyone seemed so enamored of it, was doing a damn impressive job of stripping your brother with his teeth and….shit I’m still not drunk enough.”

“Wait… “ Sam wasn’t either, but he’d forgotten how fast he could feel tipsy from sugary drinks. His blood was warming, muscles getting loose, and when he finally made the connection his laugh came loud and easy. “Star Wars?! You’re telling me he thinks it’s about-“

“God you have no idea what it’s like living with him. I’ve tried to have him tested for…. nevermind. Anyway, he’s a weird guy but he’ll go after something he wants like the Terminator, and if your brother is dicking him cross-eyed right now, and Cassie wants to keep him you can be damn sure he’ll do his best to get that mark.”

Sam leaned back into the soft leather seat, unsure what to say.

“Which is… it’s my turn to say I know how that sounds, but believe me, no one could be farther from the knot hungry, mate crazed Omega stereotype than Castiel, which is why this has me more than a little concerned. He’s a persistent little shit but he’s the best person I know, so at least we don’t have to worry that he’d do something immoral like pop the condom or- _Oh fuck!_ ” Gabriel hurdled over the arm of his chair and out the room so quickly Sam looked around in case something might be in flames. When he finally jogged upstairs to follow, he found the man on his knees in front of a closed door, separating foil packets of condoms and feeding them under the crack.

“God I hope they find these.” He studied the empty box in his hand, then stood, brushing past Sam on his way downstairs. By the time Sam made it back to the living room in a daze, Gabriel had another drink at the ready and was tearing apart the bread and slathering it with a soft cheese. “Due diligence complete, let’s talk shop. Do you know what I do, Sam?”

“I…when you called me you said you were a lawyer.”

“That’s right Sam, I am a lawyer. A very, very good lawyer. So do you know what one of LA’s most powerful and sexy lawyers does when his dear, sweet baby brother calls him in a panic telling him he needs to drop everything and get a friend of his out of a possible arrest and oh by the way he’s being taken down to the station too for a matter that should have been closed? Well for one he makes a phone call to his ‘secretary’” Gabriel used finger quotes for that. “You see I have three. Tanya works Tuesdays, Thursdays and half day Saturdays and is a wiz at getting a reservation, managing my calendar and flashing her perfect tits to the clients I need to dangle something pretty in front of. Trent works Mondays and Wednesdays in the office and Fridays by my pool and is good at lifting things, bending over to file paperwork and making sure all the first wives west of the 405 are absolutely satisfied with their divorce proceedings.” He winked unnecessarily.

“And secretary number three is a weedy little thing named Ash who I found when he tried to hack into my accounts and skim from my clients. When I call Ash, I give him names and he emails me their lives. Birth records, work history, allergies, favorite sexual position. And you know what raises enormous, billowing red flags, Sam? When those emails come back nearly empty.”

They stared at one another for a long minute. Sam unwilling to admit anything until he knew what the man had.

“I know off the grid, possibly illegal bullshit when I see it, so I need you to be painfully honest with me right now because I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, if your brother poses a threat to mine, I need to know for both their sakes. The fact that you are sitting here means you care about him, so understand that I am a man with the means to bury him.”

Sam sighed and let the silence fade out the last of Gabe’s theatrics.

“Gabriel, I get it, I do. Your brother has fallen in with someone that you don’t think is good for them, and to be honest I feel pretty much the same but you’re right, it doesn’t look equal. From where you sit Dean is just some sketchy Alpha that showed up one day to tangle your brother in his mess. But Dean’s not like that. He’s got his rough edges, but Dean is the most loyal, loving, capable person I know. He practically raised me, and when I told him I wanted to get out of the family business, he took the brunt of our father’s anger when we told him, protected me, broke his back for years to make sure I could go to a good school and have the life I wanted. And yes, he does live….off the grid, as you say, but I assure you that doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy.”

“But I notice you’re unwilling to tell me what it is he does do.”

“Honestly, it’s not my place. If you want to know, you’re going to have to ask him yourself, but don’t be surprised if he’s not forthcoming.”

“I see.”

“And again, super shady, I get it. But if we’re doing the critical brother thing, honestly I’m a little more concerned about Castiel. When Dean falls, he falls hard, couple that with his almost pathological need to sacrifice himself for the people he cares about, and all I’m seeing right now is a situation where your nice, normal Omega brother is going to break Dean’s heart when he can’t give him a sitcom white picket fence life.”

“Well bully for you that we already _had_ that growing up, siblings and swing sets and church and bake sales and church and roast on Sunday and more… fucking… church. But it was a whitewashed façade over a rotten core and Cassie ran screaming from it the minute he turned eighteen.”

“And we _never_ had that growing up, so to us- to Dean- the house with a yard and two point five kids is like Heaven, like if you do everything right in life that’s where you’ll end up. And Dean’s the type of guy that could pull a man from a car wreck and bring him back to life and still hate himself for a week thinking he didn’t do enough.”

“Castiel has never been in a real relationship before.”

“Honestly, neither has Dean.”

Just then the howler monkeys joined the jungle chorus soundtrack, both men perking up in a moment of panic that it was actually…. but it wasn’t, and they celebrated with another round tossed back maybe a bit too quickly.

“Cassie had it rough growing up, and I’m pretty much all he has since our family is a bunch of conniving assholes.”

“Oh, dude, if we’re going to pull out the fucked up childhood card, this house always wins. And Dean would still be the best father on earth if life would just cut him a break, which it refuses to do.”

“The only thing keeping Cassie from turning into a barefoot, kombucha brewing, bee keeping hippie is my active intervention with omakase and spa days. He’s completely socially oblivious and needs direct, intensive intervention help him loosen up. ”

“And Dean needs someone that’s not going to bolt when they discover his tendency for co-dependency. HA! That’s like…that sounds funny… ten-den-cy for co-dependency…” The two of them giggled for longer than would be appropriate had they been sober.

Sam only meant to lean back, but his equilibrium was shot so he ended up sprawling backwards on the couch, head lolled against the armrest and staring at the ceiling while Gabriel had long since slid to the floor, legs stretched out under the coffee table, attempting to create a replica of Stonehenge out of cheese. “Gabe what are we doing?”

“Fuck if I know, are we… for this or against it? I can’t remember.”

“I can’t either.”

It was very comfortable in this house. It shouldn’t be, to Sam, who had never gotten rid of his father’s instance that luxury was a danger, you could lose everything tomorrow so don’t get too attached. Keep it simple. So despite his income, Sam’s home was modest, basically furnished, the luxury supplied in how it never changed, day after day it was his and he could return knowing there wouldn’t be a duffle bag tossed on his bed with his father demanding he pack. It was a good little house, though it struck him more often than he’d like how empty it felt with just him. But Gabriel’s home was different, it was only slightly larger but fantastically decorated with items that screamed wealth and effortless taste.

Everything was tobacco colored leather and beige toned fabrics, Edison light bulbs and overlapping Persian rugs. It walked right up to the line of too much and teetered there until you noticed the art covering the walls or propped up on the floor. Bizarre stuff, some of it dark but all of it with that tricky-sharp sense of humor he had been seeing flashes of from his host all afternoon. It gave the place a winking quality that he found endearing.  Outside was likely bone bleach bright, but all the curtains were drawn, soft yellow glow from the scattered lamps casting comforting shadows, making it feel cozy and hidden away in here. Sam liked it, granted it was odd, to say the least, that he was crashing this man’s home because their brothers hadn’t been able to stop themselves from fucking like animals, but if he didn’t think on that too hard, he was enjoying himself.

They must have given up on ‘Show me yours, I’ll show you mine: Fucked up brother edition’ some time ago. Now it was talk about their own lives, the all-consuming nature of their jobs, the lack of time for commitments but the wealth of crazy stories.

“…so the daughter’s like- _heehee_ \- she’s like, ‘We just wanted Nona to be happy! She loves Bob Barker!’ And they get there but the handicap seating is near the top section of the theater and then Bob-“ Sam is laughing so hard tears are spilling down his cheeks and he can barely breath. “Bob goes ‘Come on down!’ to someone else entirely but Nona thinks, _fuck it, I’m going_ and she drives her motorized scooter down the fucking stairs and crashes into the orchestra pit!”

Gabriel is hysterical, sitting with his head between his knees and unable to catch his breath, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry that’s not funny! It’s not, I shouldn’t be laughing!”

“No it gets worse! They brought her in when I was working the ER and you could see, like, her bones through the cut on her leg, and her son is standing there holding this fucking ornate…. wastebasket that he stole from the theater and is just violently retching into it every thirty seconds. I was brand spanking new and I the whole time I’m trying not to faint and this tough little cookie doesn’t bat an eyelash as I’m stitching her up and is just _cursing my motherfucking grave_ that we took her away from Bob! Like I may have an actual Italian grandmother curse on me.”

“Yeah, she turned you into a sasquatch!”

“Oh my God, shut up, that’s what Dean calls me! Six four isn’t that big!”

“You’re a freak of nature.”

“Dude, you’re just jealous because you have short man’s complex. How good are my odds that I find one pair of shoes in your closet that has heels?”

“Better than good, heels make my ass look amazing. Besides, it’s hard being this short, my cute, trim little body having to carry around all this enormous dick in my pants, it’s exhausting!”

“Oh please, even with this alleged monster cock, what are you, 145 tops? I could bench press you in my sleep.”

Gabriel licked his lips and narrowed glittering gold eyes at the Alpha who by now had completely melted into the sofa.

“Oh yeah big boy? Prove it.”


	8. Chapter 8

Dean was accustomed to waking suddenly, what he wasn’t used to was doing so after falling so deeply into unconsciousness. It was still late afternoon, he hadn’t been out for too long, but he felt strange, warm and supple, oddly pain free. It took a minute for his brain to catch up. This must be what it’s like to ‘get a good night’s sleep’, no wonder everyone made such a big deal about it. For as long as he could remember he’d only slept in short, utilitarian bursts, just enough to function but not enough to let the nightmares take root. But God, he felt amazing, and when he looked down at the sleeping Omega curled in his arms, he felt even better.

Except for the mess.

Sliding a hand over the sleep warm stretches of Cas’ skin, he found his back and thighs and stomach covered in come and flaking dried slick, and Dean already felt the itch to knot this Omega again but he needed to care for the man first. Padding over to the en suite bathroom, Dean rummaged up a washcloth and made sure the water was hot when he dampened it so it would stay nice and warm for Cas. He pulled back the covers, admiring the toned muscle and pale skin all tangled up in sleep and brushed a lock of hair out of Castiel’s face before gently wiping him down, cleansing his body in long firm strokes, rolling him over to get at his stomach and chuckling softly when the Omega just flopped over, dead to the world.

Dean grabbed one leg behind the knee and shifted it up for better access, running the cloth down the exposed length of Cas’ lovely cock and sweeping slow circles along his perineum and the puffy rim of his hole. The Omega groaned lowly in his sleep, rocking down minutely at the stimulation. A light flush crept over Castiel’s skin, and Dean noticed how much warmer his skin was getting, bleeding up through the material of the washcloth. His scent was changing too, the drowsy softness becoming sharper, more insistent. The heat was returning. It had Dean rock hard in an instant, squeezing firmly at the tender base of his dick, the firm bulge of his growing knot already filling his hand. Seeing Castiel like this, splayed out, legs held wide open as a new wave of heat rolled in, plumping his dick and sending a fresh trickle of slick down his cheeks set off a buzzing in Dean’s head and under his skin. He tossed the washcloth to the ground and crawled up onto the bed, kneeling in the V of Castiel’s legs and licking his wolfish smile. With sure hands he flipped the man over and drew his hips up onto his lap, Cas’ legs on either sides of his knees, head and chest still nestled in the mattress. This was the perfect position to take in the sight of his Omega’s dripping hole, slick pulsing out more freely now. Dean swiped a thumb through the fluid, sucking it into his mouth and groaning at the burst of Omega flavor on his tongue. It felt like sugar coated prickles of electricity on his taste buds and for a moment his brain stalled, unable to choose between doing what he’d planned or just burying his tongue to the hilt and calling it a day.

He ran careful hands over the swell of Castiel’s ass and up his back and down again, around, over, and nearly hyperventilating from the gluttonous possibilities that came from having this stunning, heat ripe Omega half presenting in his lap. His cock was furious with his decision to sideline him for the moment, twitching from the scant friction from where it rested against Cas’ slick dampened cheek. Dean took another torturous moment just to look, just to familiarize himself with the gorgeous line of sleeping Omega that was about to get stuffed with cock and plugged up tight with his already swelling knot. Dean groaned at the thought, tugging at his heavy balls and enjoying the tease, the wait, the ghosting sense of predation that shivered through his Alpha as it surveyed his unsuspecting prey. He slid his middle finger deep into his own mouth, swirling it through the thicker saliva at the back of his throat before pulling it out slow, still a tease of his own to enjoy, then placed a careful hand between Castiel’s shoulder blades, waiting to be sure the Omega didn’t stir. With determined grace, Dean plunged his spit slick digit into Cas’ hole, immediately seeking out his prostate and massaging it in earnest while he held the Omega in position. Castiel was awake immediately.

“UuuuAAhhh! Oh fuck! Oh fuck, Dean!” Castiel shuddered and rocked as Dean targeted that spot, widening his knees so that Cas’ own legs spread further, his cock and balls dangling futilely between Dean’s thighs. Castiel’s heat scent exploded around them, slick gushing out around Dean’s hand, his silken channel squeezing and sucking his finger deeper as he made desperate, pretty noises against the rumpled sheets.

“You’re still so loose, my cock stretched you out so wide. Wonder if I could fit like this, no more prep than getting you all hot and begging for it.” He slid in another finger, still working on Castiel’s prostate with careful precision. “Wanna get you a plug that’s shaped like my dick Cas, keep you filled all day, let me push right in whenever I want, take you everywhere I go and just fuck you on the hour. You’d forget what it felt like not to have me inside you.”

“Fuck me _now_! Dean please, need your knot every day just like that, need you,” Castiel whined and rocked but he was being so good, not trying to touch his dripping cock or move from the position Dean had put him in, just waiting for his Alpha to decided how he wanted to take care of him.

“God I love to watch you like this, all strung out and aching for me. My good Omega, got something fun I wanna try with you.”

It was one of those things tossed around in the mythos of drunk friends, in the porn that specialized in heat kink, the Devil’s Knot. And Dean couldn’t lie, there had been epic wank sessions devoted to slowly taking a gorgeous, heat wet Omega apart and tying them in a Devil’s Knot, but he’d never thought the opportunity would present itself. An Omega in heat in this day and age rarely scratched the itch the old fashioned way, with a hot blooded Alpha and not a drawer full of silicon or one of those services that offered clean, responsible Betas that fucked you politely and upsold you home cooked meals or gentle spooning for just a little extra. It was considered too unreliable, dangerous even, to leave something so vulnerable to an Alpha that might decide to rut and bite and make demands.

Dean had only fucked an Omega in heat once, this wild eyed brunette called Cheryl that he’d pretty much figured out first thing was looking for trouble. He had no idea what she was after, other than the standard an Omega could expect when wandering out alone in the middle of a heat towards the only bar in town purported to be an Alpha hang out. Sick as it sounds, he felt like he’d been doing her a favor that night, taking her back to his motel and fucking her eighteen ways to Sunday. She kept pushing for more, claws and teeth and crushing hands against her throat. For the first time in ages he’d been nervous about the abundance of weaponry stashed about his room, convinced that if she’d found any of it the next order of the day would have been knifeplay. Cheryl had been looking to bleed and it scared him off heats for a long while, even though he knew the reality was she was just crazy.

Dean worked Cas’ prostate a little more, loving the way his back muscles flexed as he panted in Dean’s lap. Slipping his fingers out, Dean rubbed the slick over his erection, massaging it into the skin and noticing the way it tingled and drew more blood to the surface, engorging him further. Another reason this kink was more rumor than statistic was it could only be done between an Omega in heat and an Alpha with a great deal of self-control, the profound difficulty of which making itself clear in the voice of Dean’s Alpha screaming at him in full volume that he needed to insert painfully throbbing dick A into slippery tight hole B as of noon yesterday or it might actually explode. And it would be so friggin’ easy to tilt his pelvis just so, grab Cas’ hipbones in each hand and spear him in one swift motion, relieving them both of this frustration. His erection drooled and twitched at the idea and when he resumed fingering Cas, the other hand now stroking Castiel’s cock firm and slow, the man made this _sound,_ filthy and desperate, and Dean almost lost it.

“Dean hurry, gonna come if you don’t….”

Dean thrust his fingers faster, clamping his other hand around the back of the Omega’s neck, a dirty little shortcut. “Want it babe, want you to come right now.”

Half a dozen more thrusts and Cas whined and spasmed in the sheets, rocking himself through it back on Dean’s hand. The Alpha gave him a moment, wiped his dripping fingers all over his own balls and the base of his swelling knot, flipping Castiel onto his back so the man could watch glassy eyed as Dean sucked the remaining slick from his thick fingers one by one.

“Alpha,” the hunger in Castiel’s stare knifed through Dean, arresting his muscles in a seizure of possessiveness, a microparticle cloud of red exploding behind his eyes and branching down the white hot threads of his nervous system. _TAKE_ , his Alpha commanded as the sea brine notes of Castiel’s scent flared, plainly primal, easy to understand. But Dean could con anyone, so why not his own libido? He took Castiel another way, diving down to swallow that gorgeously proportioned cock, sticky with come and only barely swelling after releasing moments before.

“MmmmmahhhHHH! Dean this isn’t…. “ but his train of thought derailed as Dean accepted a challenge no one had made to prove to this Omega that Alphas could be born without a gag reflex. Sloppy and wet, his member still flopping a bit between tongue and palate as it tried to catch up while Dean suckled and twisted his head and his hand in opposition, frizzy-sharp jolts of pleasure forced up through Castiel’s musculature to burst as pleading notes from his wide, pink lips.

His orgasm came on low, a simmer in his belly close to the spine, a silt cloud that seemed too insubstantial until it rose up to covered everything, coating the inner surface of his body as he came screaming Dean’s name, skin prickled and chilled feeling by a trick of the heat.

Dean sucked him down eagerly, then dove between Cas’ cheeks, lapping up the rivulets of slick, blending the two tastes on his tongue, bitter and salt and caramel dark sweetness that was so fucking _achingly_ good. Castiel could only moan, sweat sheened limbs languid and splayed out wantonly across the bed. Dean kept teasing out more saccharine slick with his tongue, his plush lips, looking up the line of Cas’ body to admire his work in sating his Omega so thoroughly.

But the heat wanted penetration, a knot, wanted waves of Alpha come splashing up the deepest recesses of the Omega’s body, the biology of it meaning as long as Dean kept his dick to himself, angry and hard enough to cut glass he might add, Castiel’s body would continue to demand satisfaction, recovering almost immediately, priming on cue and permitting an endless string of orgasms, each a little stronger than the last in an effort to tempt the Alpha’s body into giving in and breeding this fertile, fucked out creature. And what a temptation it was…. Dean was having a hard time seeing straight with how often his eyes rolled back in his head, another little patch of brain matter shredded in his Alpha’s claws as it screamed _what the actual fuck are you waiting for?_ His hips began moving in short, compulsive little thrusts, as his body battled for control over his will, an unstoppable rutting of his pelvis like the chatter of teeth in the cold. Irrepressible attempts to fuck himself back to rightness. But he didn’t let it win, hovering instead over Castiel as his hips pistoned nothing and the dark haired man below him panted, twisted, whined and there was something so oddly _filthy_ about it, about not giving in and watching what it did to them. Dean got an unctuous little thrill watching desire dismantle them both.

Five more. He would get five more out of Castiel and then he’d be ready. That seemed workable, Castiel was already totally pliant and heat drunk at this point, eyes glazed as he licked his lips and absently pinched his own nipple, unconsciously enticing his Alpha. Jesus he was enticing, Dean growled and cleared his head with the goal ahead of him. He used his hand this time. One for each dick and the concentration it took to manage both rhythms was brilliant at keeping his head in the game, his right hand making steady piston twits over Castiel’s shaft while his left managed his own erection with more of a tease, not actually wanted to get off yet, and all the while alternating between swiping fingers through the delta of slick so that the squelching sounds of his work never let up for a moment. God his dick was on _fire_ , and he had to let go at one point, when he realized he was fucking up into his hand without even trying and dangerously, dangerously close.

He took a moment to pause, hoist Castiel up to sitting by his armpits, propping him against the headboard and telling him to hold on, which he did without question, smooth knuckles gone white where he gripped the frame on either side of his head.

“Don’t close your eyes Cas, look at me, yeah?” Cas could only vaguely nod before Dean jacked his cock again, expert and quick. Castiel was so beautiful, blue eyes wide as saucers as he did his best to do as Dean asked, fighting the urge to squeeze them shut against the oncoming tide. Dean’s hand was a blur and the noises Cas made took on a tortured edge, too much, too much. He seized up and came silently, almost silently, breath in short stitches and fuck this was a bad idea, making him stare at Dean while he came. It was so fucking hot, half lidded eyes and open mouth as the pulses of come shot between them like champagne.

“Good sweetheart, so good,” Dean pet at Castiel’s hair as the man slumped down into the bed, whimpering because it hadn’t been enough. “Four more.” And if Castiel even heard him by this point he didn’t have the strength to ask.

Four more nearly killed them both. One more from Dean eating his ass like he was ravenous, chin and cheeks shiny and dripping. A second as Dean had him propped two feet up on the wall, Cas’ thighs atop his shoulders as he held the man up by the meat of his ass and practically choked himself on the Omega’s dick. That had been hard on his back but totally fucking worth it. Third as he milked Castiel’s prostate with pruny fingers, the Omega sobbing and tear streaked, the pleading reduced to hiccups and groans. The fourth, Jesus, at this point Dean had only his mission to guide him, his vision was blurry and the scent of sex and slick and need cocooning him like a straightjacket. This time they were both nearly done for, so Dean maneuvered over Castiel’s head, cupping behind his neck to let the Omega lap at his cock for the reviving jolt tasting his Alpha would bring him, but denying both of them when he stopped Cas from sucking him down all the way.

“That’s it Cas, just lick your Alpha good. Lower…yeah… _uuu-uuhhh_ , shit yeah, just on my knot. It’s ready for you babe, just need you to come one more time for me, can you do that?” His other hand reached back behind him to work Castiel’s come slick cock, it was an odd angle but Dean let the rut take over the job, determination overriding finesse. Castiel continued to lick up and around and over, holding fast to Dean’s hips, compliant with his Alpha’s every command and coming fast and hard with the sharp taste of Alpha on his lips.

Dean wasted no time, vaulting off the bed, flipping Cas on his belly and spreading the Omega’s legs wide. It was all left to his Alpha now, the beast growling and digging cruel fingers into the over flushed curve of Castiel’s hipbones, lifting up and back so the man was curled double, knees wide and folded up to his chest. Dean snarled again, pleased at how malleable he’d made his Omega, lovely and willing and totally his. Pouncing again, the taste of Castiel’s skin was in his mouth, and the small portion of Dean that was conscious in the back of his mind was shocked that the first thing the Alpha had done, even when he’d let go and allowed it to fuck, was to instead clamp teeth down on Cas’ neck, the edge of a bite. But his knot was in no mood for self-analysis, and in the next moment he was lined up and plunging in, hard, deep, deeper, snapping his hips once as he immediately locked into place and the effect was instantaneous.

Castiel’s heat drenched hole had been waiting, denied, unsatisfied as it had been forced to clench around nothing as he came over and over and over. But with a knot suddenly there, slammed in, already swollen full and stretching him rapidly wide, his body convulsed and compressed violently _down_ , some instinct making sure it would not be deprived again. There wasn’t the rhythmic pulsing of a channel milking its Alpha’s knot, securing it in place and drawing out wave after wave of come. It was Castiel’s passage and the ring of his hole nearly _crushing_ Dean’s cock in a single, unending compression, and this was the Devil’s Knot.  Castiel was screaming, coming and screaming and so possessed his whole frame locked up while Dean had the briefest moment of lucidity, white panic that this had all been a terrible, terrible idea, the solid pressure on his oversensitive knot sending him over into an orgasm that flayed him open, twisted him backwards in evolution, melting away who he was and letting it all slide down spinning before it shot out his cock in one unending stream, a seismic magma of come and profanity and howling with the diaphragm at moons orbiting other planets.

Castiel kept screaming his name. Dean could only roar and arch deeper into the pressure that still wouldn’t let up. What if this was forever? What if they never stopped coming? Wrung out, shriveled husks that trembled in a soft breeze until his dick finally gave out and just snapped off.

It was so tight. _So. Tight_. SHIT! Jesus please just-

 _Still_ coming, both of them hoarse and unable to scream anymore and fuck how did he even have this much in him? His dick must be shooting out spinal fluid at this point, all his limbs frozen. And it didn’t so much as stop crushing them both as it did let up on the gas a little, the two of them weak and paralyzed where they dropped, Dean’s heavy frame landing on Castiel and sliding off sideways from the copious amounts of sweat between them.

“ _Cas_ …” he whispered, pulling the shaking man tighter against his chest, running his hand over the little swell of his tummy, taut with the contraction still, but expanding ever so minutely, and that was Dean’s come filling him. His Alpha still had the reigns, stretched a grin across his swollen lips, no Omega had ever been bred so well. He would fill Cas with his pups, an army of them with dark hair and green eyes. Yeah…that was…

The moment the Devil’s Knot released them, the two men shuddered a sighed and fell into sleep. Every bit of them intertwined, fingers laced over Castiel’s heart, Dean’s face buried in his hair.

\---

“You should stay in bed.” Dean growled, more from concern than annoyance. Castiel swayed again on unsteady feet as he threw a pair of too small sweatpants at the Alpha’s head. He scowled as Dean hopped around in the attempt to simultaneously pull on the pants and maintain the staring contest that was taking place in Gabriel’s walk in closet. Castiel’s glower was tempered somewhat by the fact that he was wearing one of Gabriel’s very short, very satin black robes. It was, for all its complete ridiculousness, (hemline just barely covering his modesty, neckline a wide open V showing off the flushed, love bitten skin and defined plates of his chest) the perfect garment for his over sensitized skin.

“You didn’t fuck me into invalidism, and you need me to hold off my brother. God forbid he finds you alone in the kitchen, I’ll never see you again.” Dean pouted but sighed his acceptance, trying to keep his frown in place as he sidled up to Castiel, running his hands under the silky cool fabric to pull the man in by the meat of his ass, licking slow into that wide sweet mouth like he needed just one more hit.

“I don’t know,” Dean hid the shy tone of his voice between the kisses he trailed down Castiel’s neck. “I like the idea of making you come so hard you can’t walk, keep you in my bed and bring you all your meals. No? Okay, so, plan is you run interference while I rustle up some grub?”

Castiel stalled somewhat in his arms.

“And then we will need to talk,” Cas murmured. “All of us. Sam too if he’s still here. I have something I need to share and I believe- Well, later. Food first.” He left a peck on the high arch of Dean’s cheek and turned to leave. And Dean spotted the tooth shaped ring of bruising peeking up from the collar of Cas’ robe and took an inventory of his past against the odds of scaring Cas away and still didn’t have the tally by the time he made it to the hall.


	9. Chapter 9

It all happened in slow motion.

Dean catching up to Cas as he entered the living room. The large, shaggy haired head they both notice sticking out past one end of the couch on the floor, face scrunched up and straining, the rest of the mass of Alpha hidden behind the furniture. Cas’ sound of confusion, Dean’s moment of panic that Sam might be hurt. Then the tumble, hard collision with the couch knocking it back an angled foot as Sam jerked in surprise then started screeching curses.

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck _teeth_!”

“MMMMmmmHHHHMmmm!”

Sam fumbled like a terrified giraffe, scrambling to his feet, remembering just in time to grab a pillow to cover his crotch. Gabriel popped up a second later, undone pants slipping down his narrow hips as he rubbed at his jaw and swatted at Sam’s arm.

“You almost knotted my mouth there stud!” Sam spun in a frantic circle looking for clothes, giving Dean an unwanted flash of his pasty white ass.

“Oh you’ve got to fucking be kidding me.” He groans just as Castiel scolds. “Gabriel!”

“Oh please Cassie, my entire house smells like your sex musk. Don’t go getting all prude on me if I want to play with an Alpha of my own.” And he winks at Sam and chuckles at the sheepish little smile it evokes. “So what’s the biz, this thing over?” He stirs the air in front of him with a flourish of his hand then goes about buttoning his pants. Sam has found his boxers, thank goodness, and sinks to the couch to put them on.

“He needs to eat,” Dean decides to plow right through the awkward. “And drink. Where’s your kitchen Gabriel?”

Three shirtless men and one in a black satin robe sit around Gabriel’s dining room table, eating sandwiches and eyeing one another with equal parts mortification and protective suspicion. Dean never let Castiel’s glass of water go half empty, plying the man to drink more and stroking his thigh under the table. Gabriel watched them carefully, noticed Sam watching too and they shared a look.

“So I’d like to start.” Sam spoke carefully, like this was group therapy at the Fuck Buddy Rehab center. “Castiel, if you’d agree, I’d like to do a quick exam. You seem lucid now, but I’d like to be sure this heat is finished. I’d also like to try and find out why you are having these off cycle.”

The _when Dean’s around_ part going unsaid.

“You can say no Cas.” Dean eyed his brother.

“It’s alright Dean, I would very much like to get to the bottom of this as well. Though this has been my most enjoyable heat to date.”

“I’ll bet.” Snorted Gabe and Castiel hummed in agreement.

“He put me in a Devil’s Knot.” He said with complete nonchalance and went back to his sandwich.

“What?!” shrieked Sam, the teenaged girl in him taking over.

“I….. Dean, at some point today I’m going to punch you in the face and give you a high five. I just haven’t worked out the order.” Gabriel said with all sincerity, as if giving both options solemn consideration. Dean tried not to smirk, failed.

“Gabriel you will do neither,” though Cas knew it was entirely likely his brother would attempt both. “I have something I need to share with you. I think I need help and I don’t know what to do.” Everyone could sense the mood change, Sam and Gabe looked at him with the word _mate_ written across their brow, but Castiel finished the rest of his water and looked hard at his brother. “I need to ask you something, Gabriel. I know that you and mother have had your issues, I know that you don’t speak, but I’ve come across some information that I don’t know what to do with, and I fear that I need you by my side but do not wish to put further strain your relationship with the family.”

Gabriel snorted, a familiar, too casual sound, “Hon, I’ve not only done things to each and every one of them to make their lives hell, I know where most of the bodies are buried. They want nothing to do with me. Michael even ponies up two grand a month so I’ll keep my trap shut about Cabo, and I have it on expert authority that mother has privately taken steps to not only remove me from her will but to make it seem I was never her son! I think she wants it to be her final twist of the knife from beyond the grave, but joke’s on her cause I already picked out my funeral attire.”

“Gabriel I’m serious.”

“So am I, fuck them Cas. They haven’t been my family in years.”

Everyone held onto the silence while the brothers regarded each other.

“Alright. I need to show you something.” Castiel stood and hurried upstairs, returning a moment later with his phone in his hand. When he seated himself, it was with the poise of someone tense and unsure, but his voice was steady.

“Gabriel, the night I was attacked, a man came into my store. He came just as I opened, bought suppressant and left. After I closed, he approached me again, near my car, with three other men he implied were Alphas. They beat me, dragged me back into the store and set about robbing me.” Dean tensed beside him, and though he wasn’t growling, every man at that table gave him a quick, worried glance. Castiel laced his fingers through Dean’s under the table. “But I lied to the police, Dean saved me. He showed up and fought them all off, and when I blacked out, he took me in and gave me medical attention before seeing me to the hospital.”

Gabriel looked hard at Dean, he didn’t need Cas to explain why he had lied, his suspicions confirmed.

“It was Dean that sent me into that first heat, not the attack.”

“Oh, well then, small blessings.” Gabe intoned flatly, unaware he was using one of Naomi’s favorite phrases.

“You know I went to see mother after that, what you don’t know is that she immediately spent her time trying to convince me to agree to an interview about the ruling and the purported reaction from the Alpha community. She wanted me to go on camera and whimper about the terrible Alphas that put me in the hospital. I lost it, a little. I went to her office to calm down and found this.” He swiped through his phone before holding up the image of his hand holding a photo, handing the phone to Gabriel as Dean and Sam tried to crane and see.

“The bald man next to mother, that is the one that came into my store, he’s the one that orchestrated the attack. But that’s not all, look at the next photo.”

“Shit.” Gabriel scowled, handing the phone over to Sam while Dean glared and made ‘gimmie’ hands.

“Dean?” Sam sounded alarmed, handed the phone to Dean and watched as his brother swiped back and forth, back and forth between the photos. “Is that-?”

“Shit!” Dean plunged his hand through his hair and eyed his brother, unspoken paragraphs volleyed between them.

“Yes, it appears my mother hired-“

“No, Cas, this is bad. You see this woman?” He pointed at a stunning blonde off to the side, beaming at the camera. “I know her.”

“We both do.” Sam said.

Castiel looked at the names, “Bella Talbot? Who is she?”

“She was fifteen flavors of bad news and two years ago I killed her.”

\---

It was a great punch, lightning fast and straight down the middle and it tipped Dean over backwards in his chair for a precarious second before he was able to right himself and jump to his feet. Gabriel was on the table, fist cocked for another before Sam managed to get ahold of him. Cas pulled Dean into the kitchen before the man could retaliate. Everyone was yelling and Castiel caught a glimpse of Sam hauling Gabriel over his shoulder into the other room.

Sam and Castiel worked on calming the men, then switched places to talk their own brothers down. When something resembling a truce was formed, everyone met in the living room after Castiel hid the booze.

\---

“Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, ghouls, all of it.” Dean sneered.

“Well most of it.” Sam interjected, “Some things are more common than others. Once in a while we’ll see something new, but most of it is stuff the community knows how to handle.”

“And just how many ‘hunters’ make up this community. And why hasn’t anyone ever heard of this stuff before, if people are dying, why isn’t this splashed all over the nightly news?” Gabriel leaned with elbows on knees, fingers tented, and Cas knew that was his posture for seeking out holes in an argument before blowing them wide open.

“I imagine most people who have encountered something like this fear they will be labeled insane. I know I was.”

“He’s right,” Sam offered, laying a comforting hand on Gabriel’s bare shoulder that was promptly shrugged off. He sighed, “People either don’t know what to make of it, or are convinced anyone they tell will think they’re crazy. Your own brother had a run in with a ghoul and you never knew, because what would you have said if he’d come to you with that story?”

Gabriel was thoughtful for a moment.

“So you’re both hunters.”

“Well Dean is, I more or less retired. Mostly I help with research now and then, and I run a network of medics that help with the triage, as you can imagine hunters can’t just pop into a hospital where people might ask questions.”

“And how many hunters are we talking about?”

“In the States? Probably around two, three hundred I’d say. They tend to be a solidary type, lot of folks gone rogue when something chomps on a loved one and they want revenge. Not a long life expectancy either.”

Castiel looked at Dean, tried to imagine his life out there, alone, no home, just one bloody mess after another to clean up. Broken bones and running and grave dirt and solitude. He shifted closer, Dean offered him a wan smile but it only made Cas frown a little more. Gabriel closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, whispering, “… _5..6..7..8_ ….OKAY!!”

“Okay what?” Dean grunted.

“When life gives you balls, you must grab them. So there are monsters and you kill them. Can’t deal with that now, so fine. Let’s move on to the issue at hand. Here are the facts as we know them. Castiel was robbed. Dean happened by and went JeeJa Yanin all over the place.”

“What?”

“Who…and that movie title was very misleading. The man in charge also happens to be a platinum donor for the Omegas for American Prosperity nutbag jamboree and is apparently chummy with our mother.”

“Oh shit.” Sam only now made the connection.

“What?” Dean looked between them all, confused.

“The other woman in the picture, that’s their fucking mother! But the names, you’re both-“

“Motivated to disassociate ourselves as much as possible. Novak is our father’s name. Cassie and I both took it after the divorce out of solidarity and also to keep ourselves out of the public eye.”

“Does somebody want to clue me in here?” Dean huffed.

“Jesus, Dean don’t you watch the news ever? That’s Naomi Milton………Senator of California conservative Omega advocate that basically spearhead the suppressant ban that caused all this Naomi Milton.”

Dean burst out laughing.

“You’re shitting me!”

“No Dean, I’m afraid it’s true.” And Castiel was so sincerely morose at the admission that Dean couldn’t help wrapping an arm around his shoulders for a squeeze, shaking his head and chuckling. “And now it appears she hired this man to attack me so that I would be willing to side with her in her cause. So that she would be able to play the victim and rally support. And Sam, weren’t there other people attacked that night? Other stores? The officer at the hospital mentioned it. What if she orchestrated all of it? And she knew somehow! Dean she kept implying that she knew you had been there.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, she kept insisting that there were five men, that they told the police you were part of their group and…I guess…double crossed them. It doesn’t make sense, why would they…………Gabe?”

Gabe was up now, pacing and deep in thought, fingers ticking off an invisible list. Dean grew impatient.

“Buddy-“

“Shut up! I’m thinking. Cas, I’m thinking….”

Castiel didn’t hesitate, he knew that look, ran into the kitchen and returned with a mixing bowl filled with M&Ms. Gabe tore it from his hands on his next pass and began scooping handfuls of the chocolate into his mouth, the constant rattle of the candies a counterpoint to his pacing.

“Tell me about this Bella Talbot.” He said over a mouthful of chocolate.

“She was actually… kind of unforgettable.” Dean smirked, blanching when he saw Castiel’s possessive scowl. “Not like that! I didn’t sleep with her!”

“Only because she tried to kill you.” Sam snorted.

“You’re not helping!”

“Bella was a shifter….uhh….shapeshifter. See hunters look for strange murders, disappearances, stuff that’s not typical for the area. A number of people in Los Angeles went missing a few years ago, but only just long enough that their families got worried and called the cops but not long enough to actually be considered a missing person. They would vanish, and a day or so later, just show up with some excuse. But then a week or so would go by and they’d vanish again before showing up dead from a point blank shot to the head, execution style.”

“Now this wouldn’t be something I’d bother with,” Dean took over. “But all their families said the same thing, that the first time they came back they seemed a little off. They couldn’t place it, but habits changed, or the dog wouldn’t go near them. And stuff like that starts dinging monster bells all over.”

“It turned out they all worked for the same company, a company that was in the process of voting on a very controversial merger with Roman Pharmaceuticals. Dean tracked the murders back to Bella, she was shifting into the company stakeholders in order to force the acquisition. She was just about to kill an accounting clerk when Dean found her. It was self-defense.”

“She was a fixer Cas, I could never prove it but I know Roman Inc. hired her as a fixer, but there was nothing to link her to anyone.”

“That’s….that’s actually brilliant.” Gabe was impressed. “But then why…..ok, wait a minute, I need to get my facts straight. Five years ago, my mother wasn’t a senator, but she was well on her way, which meant that she was very careful about the people she associated with or took money from. At least on the books. This Adler guy was a platinum donor, which starts at one million with a cap of five. So was Bella, but you’re telling me she was a shapeshifting murderer with possible ties to the biggest pharmaceutical manufacturer in the country. We don’t know Adler’s background, but he obviously had enough money and influence five years ago to be cheek to cheek with Naomi. But now he’s in the wind after planning one, possibly several, low level suppressant robberies that involved assaulting their target enough to make it a serious crime. Why? Why risk that? And if Naomi did have something to do with this, why risk her own career?”

“And what does she know about Dean?” Castiel worried at his lip as if this was worse than the possibility of his own mother’s betrayal.

The bowl was half empty, and Gabriel bounced his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“Prosecution needs a witness! Cas I’m gonna need to bring in a specialist on this one. You boys ok with a fifth? He’s just as rednecky and paranoid as you Dean, you’ll love him!”

“What does your rednecky paranoid associate do?”

“He’s gonna find Naomi’s backdoor and get in there deep.”

Castiel grimaced. “Are the hip thrusts truly necessary?”

\---

Two vials of Castiel’s blood in a little padded case, a cheek swab from both he and Dean and something unrepeatable whispered in his ear by a predatory looking Gabriel and Sam was off to the hospital. He had rounds he had to complete and a bribe to plead with Dr. Prithi so that she might cover him for the next few days.

Everyone agreed it was time to get fully dressed, they looked a little too Penthouse for company what with the current attire. Gabriel agreed to scrounge up a few sets of clothes for each of them while Castiel called Meg about the store and Dean called Bobby about any locals he could trust to get his baby. It was too risky going back for her at the moment, and any tow that took her off would look like it had been called by the city.

“Got Rufus coming for her in an hour, he’ll take good care of the girl. So this mean you’re outta commission for the time being?”

“Yeah Bobby, things are getting dicey and I’m just gonna lay low with Sammy for a while. I’ll call you when I’m back on my feet.”

“Damn, and I had a Rugaru in Temecula with your name on it. Ok son, stay outta trouble.”

“Will do Bobby.”

“What the hell is this?!” He heard Gabe shout from upstairs. Castiel was already there by the time Dean joined them in the doorway to the guest room.

“They appear to be condoms.”

“Very good Cassie, you pass health class.  Now you care to tell me why _all_ the condoms are still on the floor?”

Castiel tilted his head and focused intently on the identical gold foil packets that glowed against the carpet’s cream colored pile. Dean stared at them too, unable to figure out why Gabriel was so upset.

“Are you kidding me? Tell me you used something, anything, a roll of saran wrap as protection.”

And it dawned on the both of them simultaneously, they’d never used protection. Shit neither one of them had even thought of it, or had that wild sex after panic when folks realized their mistake once the lights came on. Why didn’t he use a condom? Dean _always_ used a condom, many times two because it could be hard to find a proper Alpha strength one last minute in some of the more out of the way places he found himself. Castiel picked one up and inspected it, as if the answer for his negligence was printed under the logo.

He dropped it back on the carpet.

“I don’t want to use that.”

Gabriel shook his head in disbelief. “Nobody _wants_ to use them, but you’re a fucking adult, now aren’t you? And if you want to play with strangers then you have to wrap that shit up!”

“But Dean’s not a stranger, and I….I can’t explain it Gabriel, it would be….upsetting…..”

Dean could feel it too, something about those little gold squares made him feel antsy. Now it was his turn to pick one up, turn it over in his hand.

“Don’t get me wrong, I would write you a check tomorrow if you showed up to Naomi’s door mateless with a pup on you hip. I would record her expression for posterity and print it as Christmas cards, _but you don’t know where he’s been_!”

“Enough Gabriel.”

As the brothers bickered, Dean fiddled with the condom wrapper and found he couldn’t get too mad at Gabriel’s insults, he would have given Sam similar hell if the guy had several rounds of unprotected heat sex with an Omega he barely knew. Before he knew it, he’d torn a corner of the wrapper open, and in a heartbeat the chemicalized scent of latex and spermicidal lube stung his sinuses and jabbed at his Alpha with a sharp stick. His lips peeled back in an angry growl, which was odd because normally he didn’t mind it at all, that was the scent of Dean about to get lucky.

_Wrong!_

It was wrong, he couldn’t….

But wait, all that talk of breeding and pups before had been in the heat of the moment, everyone thought about pups when they knotted someone even half as hard as he’d knotted Cas. That was just nature’s way of getting his Omega hot, his Alpha running its mouth about how potent he was. Wasn’t it?

But that smell, that fucking manufactured sterility was pissing him off something fierce because how _dare_ this piece of shit thing get between him and filling his mate. Cas was _made_ for _his_ cock, _his_ come, _his_ mark, and he was going to prove it. It had been too long since he’d seeded Cas, too long. Why the fuck were they still talking?

“Don’t you growl at me you-“

Two shoves, one to Gabe’s chest and one to the door and the man was effectively barricaded on the other side as Dean threw the condom on the ground and turned on Castiel.

“Dean?” He was breathless, his dick already poking out of the folds of the robe with its eagerness, his slick already sweetening the air.

Dean couldn’t think of anything but getting inside of Castiel as fast as possible, had the man sprawled on the floor in a heartbeat, robe open and spread like two shining black wings. Sweatpants pushed to mid-thigh, Dean lifted Castiel’s hips and didn’t waste a second before he was sinking into that wet heat. _Yes!_ This was what was right, holding the Omega’s legs over his shoulders while he loomed above him on his knees, pounding in and out and over and over and mine. How dare someone try to take this feeling away from him? The exquisite slide of this perfect Omega’s channel gripping him deeper, milking the come from his body because it had to be inside Castiel. It was the only thing that made sense, Dean had to fill him, constantly keep him filled, it was imperative.

“You want that thing on me Cas?” He thrust harder, the motion juddering Castiel’s words as they came out.

“No! Only-want-you-fucking-me-Alpha-fuck-yes-yes!”

He came fast, knotting Castiel quickly and grinding into him with a grunt. There is was, the pulsing jettison of his seed pouring into his Omega. He lifted Cas’ hips higher, making good and sure it was all in there, deep as it could go. He wrapped one arm around Cas’ thighs to hold him, working his cock in the other hand until the sticky ropes of come were splashing across Castiel’s chest, up his neck.

Dean’s jaw tightened, teeth gnashing as he looked at the well-marked juncture of Castiel’s neck and felt his teeth ache with how much he wanted to _bite_.

He couldn’t. Somewhere he knew that.

He sat back on his heels and pulled at the duvet, dragging it down so he could fold a corner and wedge it under Castiel’s head for a pillow. Sitting back on his heels he angled Cas’ hips into a better position, tilted high on his lap, legs splayed wide so he could stroke them gently and watch his lover’s face when the aftershocks took hold. Another round of clenching drained the next load from him, another full body shudder as his cock pulsed deep inside Castiel.

Another hour or so of ignoring what was happening between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all know better, but my lawyer Gabriel is making me say this:  
> Seriously guys, use all the condoms. Ain't nobody out there that can sex you good enough to be worth the genital hellfire that comes with an STI.
> 
> The more you knoooOOOWW!!!


	10. Chapter 10

For the next nine days, Gabriel’s place became home base. Ash turned the dining room table into a William Gibson fever dream, clunky, inelegant panels and screens spewing indecipherable cascades of data, vines of wire spilling over the edge and tangling through the chair legs, tripping those foolish enough to get too close. Gabriel was considerably less pissy once Sam returned to bunk down with them. The blood tests came back negative for STDs, which went a long way to ease Gabriel’s mind. Along with a few sets of clothes for Dean, Sam brought a morning after pill and several packs of birth control for Cas (and who was keeping track if Castiel stared at the little brown bag for ten minutes before stashing it under the bathroom sink), enough groceries and beer to sustain a small army, and a massive tray of baklava from an Armenian bakery out in Glendale for their host, who took one bite, promptly filled a plate and dragged Sam off to some dark corner of his home, wild eyed and ready to commit atrocities with a pastry.

Castiel and Dean tried to remember they were both neck deep in some kind of trouble they didn’t understand, not the time to enjoy playing house. But with nowhere to go and nothing to do but wait, it was easy to find a routine that fit around each other and luxuriate in a shared domesticity neither had ever had. Mornings they would fool around in bed before stumbling into the shower together, soapy hands and wet mouths getting each other off under the hot spray. Castiel would make coffee and Dean would cook, cinnamon pancakes and home fries and three plates of bacon. Or waffles with berry syrup and scrambled eggs with cheddar and chive. Sam would shuffle in with bed shocked hair on his huge bare feet. He got a kick out of making smoothies with Gabriel’s ultra deluxe blender, try to sneak in spinach and tell Dean those dark flecks were blueberries. His brother wasn’t buying it. Ash would materialize the minute the coffee pot burbled to completion, Gabriel only when Sam called him to the table from the bottom of the stairs.

Afternoons Sam and Gabriel would go out, sometimes separately, mostly together. Groceries, errands, who knows what they did, but more times than not they returned side by side in a fit of laughter and Dean couldn’t begrudge his brother his happiness, even though Castiel’s brother bugged the shit out of him most days. Castiel, for his part, left only once, a short trip to his store to check up on things. Dean had spent those two hours pacing, flipping compulsively through the hundreds of tv channels, leaning over Ash’s shoulder until he was banished to the other room. When Castiel finally returned, it was with a dark look of agitation and a determined stride, grabbing a handful of Dean’s flannel shirt and dragging him upstairs. He must have felt it too, the oily uneasiness of not being with his Alpha. Dean had licked away the scents of the outdoors from Castiel’s skin until there was nothing but the two of them, slid his aching cock home and fucked away the separation that had left them both on edge. When Dean woke up, his shoes were still on and Castiel was riding him slowly with a blissed out smile. They never left each other’s side after that.

For his part, Ash was content to hunch over his computer for long hours, clacking away at the keys and subsisting on pizza, beer and the occasional joint out back. Every now and then he shouted or yipped in astonishment, talking to his screen, laughing at it, cursing. It was hard to tell if he was making progress.

“ _What_?! You sneaky little cocksucker…”

“Who?” Castiel asked for the twentieth time that day. He still didn’t realize that Ash was never addressing the actions of a living person, but rather the whitewater code that tumbled across his screen.

“This is like, next level fuckery, you guys are into some shit man. I mean, bitch is making me _work_! I gotta say, any time you need me for somethin’ like this, I’m your guy, this shit’s awesome!” He laughed, stoned and delighted.

“I truly hope this is a one time deal.” Castiel grumbled.

“But what are you finding? What exactly are you looking for?” Dean tried to make any kind of sense out of what he was seeing on Ash’s screen, but the man only grinned and cocked a mulleted head at him, pointing at a particularly active patch of nonsense.

“Oh man, you see this? This is shit the military won’t even touch, it’s fucking _alive_! She’s got me running around like, fourth dimensional constructs that I can’t even touch! God damn man, this is the most fun I’ve had since I lost my cherry!”

“I don’t understand, who’s she? Naomi? What is she doing?”

Ash folded a slice of pizza in half and managed to get an impressive amount of it down his gullet. He chased it with the remaining half of his beer then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, wiping that on his faded black jeans.

“Naw man, she like the program. Something this pretty is a lady, like a boat or a car.” Dean nodded sagely. “Ok, so like, Naomi’s got her personal stuff, which….come on.” He scoffed as if they understood what the hell he was talking about. “And then she’s got her official channels, the government stuff, tinker toys. But nobody with half a brain would use that network to cook up, like, nefarious plots or nothin’. If she’s cookin’ some shit she needs other channels. But thing is, unless she has, like, an isolated network set up on a quarantined computer, she’s gonna leave traces. And your mom’s a busy lady, got meetings and planes to catch, and she can’t very well carry that extra equipment around with her all day. So I was guessing that there was a separate portal that Naomi might access that would link her to whatever it was she was doing. And I found that motherfucker cause I’m just that good!”

“Naomi has…..a secret…portal?”

“Yeah, I’m not getting it either.” Dean frowned.

“Ok, think of it this way, I’m Head Bitch of Cali and I got some side business I need to keep hushed up, there’s only so much you can do calling on a burner cell. You have to keep records man, and you don’t want to save that shit on a laptop that could get used as evidence, so you have someone set up a cloud, and you restrict the hell out of who has access and then booby trap that fucker to the teeth. Well I found that little angel’s cloud, only problem now is hopping on it.”

He clacked away happily as Castiel and Dean watched.

“But let’s just say I managed to grab a fluffy handful the last time it zoomed by. Here, look. Your mom’s hacked a line into your CCTV.”

On the screen was a grainy black and white feed of the interior of his store from a high angle. The tops of the shelves were visible, as was the register off towards the right. Garth was leaning back on the stool, munching on a bag of chips, two customers milled about in and out of frame. There was no audio.

“Well at least now we know how she found out I was there that night. Ash, are you able to pull up footage from a particular date?”

“Not yet, but soon, just let me know what you’re looking for.”

“But….” Castiel couldn’t tear his eyes off the screen. “I don’t have security cameras.”

\---

Castiel wasn’t able to sleep that night. Every minute that ticked by felt like his life was becoming slowly consumed by a sticky black tar of unknowing, a bulky, shifting dread that he could never fully see. Dean held him in the dark, breathing softly on the back of his neck, not pretending to be asleep, but not needing Castiel to bridge the silence with words.

He felt safe here, and there had only been one other person that had known how to cocoon him in such safety.

“My father was a brilliant man, a scientist, I like to think he gave me a little of his talent. I never understood why he mated my mother. When they had Michael, Naomi devoted herself to him, poured all of her love and affection into my brother. Then Luca was born and he belonged to my father, they always had a strange relationship. Even as a small child Luca acted like Joshua was his peer, not his parent, and I’ve come to understand my father maybe didn’t do enough to correct this notion. Luca was brilliant, too. Then the rest of us came along, Raphael, Anna, Gabriel and myself. I don’t think Luca ever forgave my father for wanting more children, he believed he should have been enough. It caused a great deal of strife, they kicked him out when he was sixteen. My mother became very religious, but it was the ingenuine sort, something she needed to get enough votes. There was always fighting in that house, and we were expecting the divorce but then my father just…..vanished. Naomi wouldn’t tell us anything, just that he had a new life now and we should move on with ours. Luca showed up convinced Michael knew where our father was. They beat each other nearly to death, smashed up the house. I left after that.”

Dean kissed along knobs of Castiel’s spine, palms smoothing slow circles in the warm skin of his stomach.

“I tried. I tried to be good, I spent a long time hoping we could be a family like the ones my friends had. But aside from Gabriel and Anna, I don’t think I ever loved them, and honestly, I don’t think they ever loved me. But still, a mother’s not supposed to do things like this.”

The anger couldn’t push past the grief, she’d never been much of a mother but up till now Castiel had always thought of her as one. But this, planting cameras, sending men to hurt him, using him, he should be furious but it felt too much like someone had died.

“What can I do?” Dean kissed the words against his ear and Castiel wanted to cry. He wanted so badly to keep this man, to make him his mate but their lives only fit together now in the core of shared chaos. Where would they be in a year? Dean wandered the country hunting monsters, Castiel spent his days in a dusty little shop on Ventura Blvd., making couch syrup out of licorice root. He didn’t know how to say what he needed because he needed too much. So he turned in the sheets of their borrowed bed and kissed Dean with all the longing he’d felt, for a family, a home, a mate. This mate, this man.

“What’s going to happen when all this is over?”

And Dean, thankfully, didn’t patronize him by pretending not to understand. “I don’t know, Cas. I don’t think I can walk away from the life.”

“Sam did.” He didn’t want to beg but the tremor sang through all the same.

“Sam found another way to save people, and I don’t have any other skills besides fixin’ cars and hustling pool.” He huffed a bitter laugh, “Can’t say I’d be much use to you with a resume like that.”

Castiel ran his thumbs along the slope of Dean’s cheekbones and felt older just looking at the glut of past misery built up behind those beautiful green eyes. He would do anything to remove that burden, soothe the creases in his brow, make him hopeful, teach him how to be hopeful.

But expressing these things was difficult, the words would come out too blunt and forceful, or needy, or insensitive to a past he still didn’t really understand.

“I’m not looking to hire you, Dean.” Trying humor, though it was never one of his strong suits. “Unless this is looking for a job.” He cupped Dean’s crotch roughly in his hand, rousing its interest.

Dean gratefully shifted gears, trademark smirk at the ready. “Well I’m a real hard worker.” His lips already seeking out the quick pulse along Castiel’s throat, his hands furrowing through the man’s dark hair.

Castiel gasped at the grind of their hips, “I think I’d need to test your skills first, see how well you’d _fit in_.”

They both chuckled softly. “Oh I can show you how well I’d fit. I’d give _anything_ to have this job.”

And Castiel couldn’t see his face, buried as it was in his shoulder, but he didn’t miss the tone, or the subtle flinch when Dean heard his own biting little undercurrent of truth he hadn’t been able to suppress.

\---

 Two days later, Ash managed to hack into Naomi’s private network. The first thing they found, the whole set up was being used to store a small file of documents, that Ash explained might take another few days to crack, and a series of communications between Naomi and just two other points of contact. The first was someone called simply Azazel who Sam and Dean began to believe was very likely a merc. One email in particular held a list of initials and times and it was with very little effort that Castiel was able to discern that NHW- 3:45am stood for Novak Health & Wellness at the time of his attack. Naomi’s response was concise as it was sickening.

**To: Azazel**

**From: NM**

**Nothing permanent.**

But it was the communications that followed that created the bigger mystery. Everything after this point was a collective, emails sent always to both Azazel and the other contact known only as D.

**From: D**

**To: Azazel, NM**

**Status update- video file v.1 and v.2 complete.**

**From: Azazel**

**To: D, NM**

**Status update- Adler choses v.2, as expected. Release scheduled for tomorrow. Suitable body double found, in custody, replacement mug shot and prints uploaded to FTP.**

**From: NM**

**To: D, Azazel**

**Status update- Det. Bradley contacted re: Adler. Cooperation confirmed. Still no ID on unknown Alpha.**

**From: Azazel**

**To: D, NM**

**Status update- Adler released. Switching to neutral, new photo uploaded to FTP. Original disposed of.**

**From: D**

**To: Azazel, NM**

**Status update- funds for opposition campaign deposited. Press release from Adler’s camp prepared to run once any coercion damage has healed. Package 1 set for market release ASAP. Package 2 still with branding, needs brighter copy, push messaging for suppressant resell opt-out.**

**From: Azazel**

**To: D, NM**

**No damage done to face or hands, Adler ready for appearances immediately.**

\---

“This is a really fucking stupid idea Cas!” Dean paced the living room while Castiel turned the knife over in his hands.

“It’s not ideal but I need to know.”

“And what if you get caught?”

Castiel glanced at him sideways, infuriatingly calm. “Caught doing what? At worst they’ll think I’m an overenthusiastic citizen looking to help the police solve a crime. I’m sure they get plenty of people who do stuff like this each week. Think of how many tips get called in when a criminal is on the loose?”

“But you’re not making an anonymous phone call, are you Cas?” Dean fumed as he paced. “You’re walking right into the lion’s den! At least try giving it to someone else, we already know Detective Bradley is dirty! He’ll be on the phone with your mother the minute you walk out the door, if you even make it that far!”

“Dean, it would be best if you relax. I have this all worked out and alerting my mother to my actions is inconsequential. Believe me when I say she has no faith in my competency whatsoever. Besides, if I’m right, approaching Detective Bradley is the safest option. He doesn’t want anything that might tie Adler to this crime.”

It came as no surprise to Castiel that Gabriel not only knew the most effective way to remove all trace evidence from the spare knife Dean had given them, but that he enthusiastically volunteered to do the job himself, appearing next to the bathroom wearing tiny black briefs, a clear plastic apron, black nitrile gloves and nothing else but the purple mop bucket of supplies dangling from his hand.

“Jesus Gabe, you’re not disposing of a body.” Dean scowled at him. Gabriel extended his hand, and Castiel gave him the knife.

“Leave me, I have work to do.”

And he dragged Sam into the room with him, closing and locking the door. Castiel pretended not to notice the small coil of rope stuffed into the bucket next to the bleach, but Dean didn’t, nor did he miss Gabriel’s dramatically stern _hands behind your back_ filtering through the door.

“I don’t fucking like a single thing about this. That bozo’s gonna get you arrested.”

Castiel sighed and pulled three beers from the fridge, swinging by the dining room to leave one with Ash before rejoining Dean in the living room.

“I know he seems puerile at times, but this is just how Gabriel handles pressure. And yes, he’s decided to turn this venture into some sort of role play sex game, but that’s just because he knows better than to try and talk me out of it. He is the absolute best person to do something like this, and he treats it like a joke but he knows that it’s not. I trust him with my life, Dean.”

But Dean could only mutter into his beer.

\---

It was odd, his heart rate was elevated but he wasn’t too nervous, not when he knew Dean was watching him right now on the feed in Gabriel’s house. Castiel opened the store and ran through the morning chores, carefully training his eye on the ground so as not to look up at the two spots above him he now knew hid cameras watching his every movement. He could pretend he felt Dean’s eyes on him, every careful maneuver broadcasting routine, and it calmed him. This was the first time he’d been well and truly alone in some days and his mind teased at him in the silence, prodded him to examine this bond they were forming and all the clever ways it could- likely would- go painfully wrong. But Meg would be starting her shift soon and this only worked if he was the only actor in this little play.

The armful of plastic bottles was just enough to prove unwieldy, and as he made his way to the chosen spot, Castiel let one slip, the rest of them tumbling down and rolling across the floor and under the shelves, just as he’d planned. Crouching with his back to the camera, he reached to pull them out one by one, subtly palming the knife in its plastic bag wrapping and shoving it under the shelf. It was then just a matter of acting surprised when he pulled the naked blade from under the shelf, giving the camera a good view of his find.

Detective Bradley appeared instantly the minute he heard who was here to see him. Castiel was offered the usual platitudes and a few noncommittal noises of placation when he asked if the men had been  caught. He suffered through it until he got his opening.

“I’m here because I believe I found a piece of evidence.” He made quote fingers just before reaching into his bag. The clear plastic Ziploc hugged the curves of the blade, not a large thing, but enough that you wouldn’t want it in the hand of an attacker. “I was cleaning up in my shop and found this under one of my shelves. I recall seeing one of those men holding this, and if you’d let me see their mugshots again I’d be happy to point him out to you.”

The officer looked sternly at the knife dangling in Castiel’s hand, as if unsure what to do with it, or with him. “Uh…certainly, anything at all helps! Let me take that from you.” He pinched the bag carefully between his fingers.

“And I do want you to know that my prints will likely be on it, I didn’t realize what it was when I was removing it, so if there’s anything you need from me in order to-“

“Oh no! No no, that’s fine, we know what to look for.” He huffed an uncomfortable sounding laugh.

Castiel wasn’t shown to a room, left at the front desk as Bradley went to retrieve the photos, and he had to wonder if a lingering dread of Gabriel was the cause. It made him smile.

“Here we go! You just take your time.” He sounded like that was the last thing he wanted Castiel to do.

There they were, all in a row, and he hadn’t realized how much of their features he’d forgotten. All except Zachariah Adler. He would never forget that jowly, beady eyed face, that venomous glee that made him look inhuman.

And the man in this photo was not him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taking some liberties with the character of Inias guys, hope you don't mind. For this story I've been picturing him around 6'4" and built, so basically the same guy by way of Dolf Lundgren. Or if you prefer to just picture a young Dolf Lundgren, I'm on board with that too.

“Take it…take it…” Gabriel choked out tightly, doing his best to hold in the smoke as it burned his eyes and his lungs. Sam reached over, careful not to get the joint wet and ruin it like last time. It was early evening, the heat finally tolerable now that the sun was sinking behind the hills. The two of them floated in random patterns on the colorful chaise inflatables, drifting over the satiny surface of the pool, passing another joint between them whenever they got close enough. It was maybe a little strange that Sam now had several sets of clothes, a swimsuit, hair products and a toothbrush all stashed at Gabriel’s house after such a short amount of time. And yes, they had been sleeping together, but Sam had never before insinuated himself so easily into the life of someone he’d gone to bed with. He couldn’t even recall exactly how it had happened, just that the duffle bag of clothes he kept in his car was now in a guest room that he never used. Just that Sam knew how to make coffee the way Gabriel liked and that Gabriel had programed his DVR with all of Sam’s favorite shows. And that Gabe had told him one day to bring a swimsuit so they could spend time lazing out by the pool so they wouldn’t have to listen to the Symphony in Fuck coming from upstairs or the technobabble conspiracy theories Ash spouted when he got too heavy into his stash.

It was odd, Gabriel was not at all like what he was normally attracted to, almost all of his recent relationships had been with very sweet, classically attractive Beta girls that came from good families and held socially responsible jobs they talked about in hopeful, future tense ways, endearing and a little naïve. Dean had called them _interchangeable_ and teased him often by mixing up their names or calling them all Jessica. Blonde Jessica, he would say, Skinny Jessica, Jessica with the silver Toyota Matrix. And fuck he was right, that was basically all of them.

But Gabriel was something unexpected, an Omega with an Alpha’s swagger and a mind for mischief. He didn’t need Sam’s money, didn’t care about bagging a doctor to make his parent’s happy, may have actually gone into law so he would have a better shot at skirting it. He made things fun, and Sam needed fun, but he was also loyal and clever and he could diffuse Sam’s default settings in a crisis like Dean could, but with a wink and a cool head as opposed to a set jaw and power struggle.

The sex was unexpected too. He’d never laughed so much while his dick was in another person’s ass. There had been a few Omega’s in his past, but it had always been so _precious_ with them. Intensity was fine as long as it was done with all required seriousness, but Gabe would jump on the bed and make Sam catch him, sing opera when he hit his sweet spot, challenge him to jerk off contests. It was stupid and silly and Sam wasn’t sure he wanted it to end.

Overhead was indigo and plum and Sam watched the bugs swarming in the porch lights and spaced out on thoughts of the wild molecular properties of human bodies in motion and how proximity can change intention and how skillfully memories can lie and if it would be possible to convince Ash to bring them a bowl of microwave popcorn.

“We should- we should put bowls around the pool!”

Sam turned his head to where Gabriel was drifting closer on the current, his body making the damp plastic squeak. “Whaaaaat?” And then started laughing because he sounded really fucking stoned right now.

“Snacks man! We put bowls of snacks around the pool and then no matter where we float there’s like….a new thing!”

“Dude, you’re like, reading my mind and then…. building on it.”

“Ok great, go do that cause I can’t move.”

“Fuck you! I’m not getting up!”

“Damn, we’ll just have to plan ahead for next time. You think it’d be a bad idea to sleep out here?”

Sam snorted, “Yeah, if I fell overboard right now I think I’d be too unmotivated to save myself.”

This time when they knocked into each other, Gabriel swung a leg over Sam’s to keep them hooked together, floating in tandem now, staring off toward the railing where the plateau of the lawn dropped off steeply, opening up to the sight of the valley, glittering in the dark.

“Have you told Dean yet?” Gabriel’s voice slipped over him, and he thought about the nature of intention again, and how maybe they shouldn’t be doing this right now.

“No, have you told Castiel?”

“No. I’m leaving that to you. Or Dean if he figures it out. Cassie’s too goddamned oblivious about stuff like that.”

“I don’t know if I should tell Dean, I guarantee you he’ll fight it if it comes from me, act like I’m taking away his free will or something.”

“It’s biology, not a prison sentence.”

“I know that.” There’s more to say here, about the history of Dean’s willpower, about his ratio of happiness to loss. The kid in the lab had wanted to keep the samples, he’d never seen a live culture from truemates before. Some modern scientists tried to argue there was no such thing, that the concept of truemates was passed down from historical myth as a way to explain couples that proved more genetically compatible than others. Sam wasn’t so sure. The genetic markers were there, they were truemates, but it seemed to Sam that their bond was deeper than biology, more profound. How else could you explain the fact that Castiel was still walking around unbitten?

 Dean wanted to bite, everyone could see it, but Dean had been fighting it, able to resist marking Castiel every time they mated. That wasn’t the part that surprised him though, that was Dean Winchester in a stubborn little nutshell. Sam knew it was more than mating drive when his brother could resist but still find a reason to slide in next to Castiel, no matter what they were doing. How he sought out affection and touch from the man, apologized if they argued. He was warmer, and he didn’t use his humor as a deflection so much, and when he smiled it reached all the way to his eyes. It was like watching a stranger walk around in a Dean suit, and Sam felt a little ashamed that he liked this brother better, and a little wounded that he’d never been able to spark such change.

 But only a little.

Sam was fairly certain he was watching Dean fall in love, and it was difficult to swallow his impulse to help somehow. Gabriel had told him to just live in the moment, and this moment was properly lovely and fragile.

“Don’t think about it too hard.” His companion said before hissing the glowing stub out in the water and tossing it up on the lawn. Sam reached over to twine his fingers through Gabe’s and let their hands trail in the water, refusing to let the blackness of the night shape itself into an allegory for whatever came next.

\---

“The government should not be in the business of dictating an individual’s right to choose. While it’s true the shadows of our past still haunt us, we cannot allow ourselves to become the oppression we fear. Every man and woman should be allowed to live in peace however they see fit, that was my belief when I worked with the OAP and it is still my belief now.”

The crowd cheered.

Zachariah beamed at the camera as the ticker at the bottom of the screen read _Newly formed Equality Action Group to challenge suppressant legislation in federal court_.

Ash still hadn’t been able to break the encrypted files in Naomi’s network, and the email communications had gone silent for the time being. But Google had provided some help. Zachariah Adler, wealthy venture capitalist who had made his fortune building and selling a company that produced children’s educational software. Omega, married four times, divorced three, seven children between them, two more stashed away in Oregon with a former nanny. Crippling alimony payments, recent business failure, near bankruptcy.

And now making a power play against Naomi that she may have some hand in funding.

\---

Castiel’s phone was lit up with texts day and night. Meg wanting to know where he was. Naomi asking to see him. Kevin informing him the cyborg came by every day. A reporter requesting a meeting, clearly sent by his mother. Detective Bradley apologizing that they were unable to find anything of use on the knife, case very likely going cold. Naomi inviting him to dinner with friends, asking he wear a nice suit for once. Meg demanding a raise as she was apparently the manager now since he’d all but abandoned her to take care of the store. Alphie begging him to call off the cyborg. Meg calling him….

Meg only called when it was an emergency.

“You need to get your ass over to my apartment now.”

Castiel held his phone away from his face to look at the time, eyes burning from the glow of the screen. Four twenty-five AM. “Wha’ mmm?”

“Look, I can respect a midlife crisis or sexual awakening or whatever the fuck is going on with you right now and I am covering your ass left and right, but you need to press pause for one goddamn minute and get your ass over here because this has officially crossed my threshold for bullshit.”

Castiel looked at the man sleeping next to him, the arm encircling his waist. He considered waking Dean, but thought better of it. He’d never make it out of the house alone, or at all, if the Alpha woke. Carefully slipping from the warmth of the bed, Castiel grabbed whatever clothes he could find on the floor, dressed quickly and was zipping to Meg’s house in Gabriel’s car five minutes later.

He had the code to the front door of her apartment building, knocked softly when he got to her place. She opened the door wearing only her underwear, black eye makeup smudged, hair a riot of frizzed out curls.

“This is all your fault, if you’d been around to stop me I wouldn’t have Igor the crying giant emoting all over my bedroom.”

There was no serious deduction needed to work out how it had come to this. Inias sat on the edge of Meg’s bed, red rimmed eyes staring off into nothing, huge hands holding his head. He wore only a pair of briefs, the rest of his clothes strewn about the room along with Meg’s own. The fact that she’d managed to lure the man back to her lair for sex wasn’t all that shocking, nor was the idea that she’d made him cry, honestly. What threw him was when the man finally looked up and saw Castiel standing hesitantly in the doorway, making a strangled sound and reaching for him like a child.

“Castiel, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” The tears had barely left his eyes and now they threatened to spill again. It seemed only polite to take a step or two nearer to the man, but it was entirely uncomfortable for two of the three present when Inias extended his long reach and pulled Castiel in by both hands, looking up from where he was sitting with pleading wet eyes, refusing to let go.

“Ummm…” Castiel tried to subtly pry his hands away. “It’s ok, you’re consenting adults and….”

Meg scoffed a sarcastic sound and rolled her eyes. Castiel shot her a look and mouthed.

_What did you do?_

_Nothing_. She mouthed back.

“No! It’s not…”

“Ok Lurch, we tried to do the touchy now we’re doing feely.” Meg gathered his clothes and dropped them at his feet. “Get dressed, I know you have some _desperately_ important thing you need tell Castiel, but I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear it while staring at your nipples. I’m making taquitos.”

She pulled Castiel after her and set to work loading a baking sheet with frozen snacks.

“Don’t judge me Clarence, I’ve been fucking with that guy for years and not once did I think it would come to anything. So what was I supposed to do when he showed up, for the eighth time I might add, to find you and actually started flirting back?”

“Was not sleeping with him and making him cry an option?”

“I didn’t make him cry! Ugh, we were getting to the good part and then he just started _weeping_ on top of me! I have man tears in my cleavage! Don’t you smile at me!”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel couldn’t help smirking just a little. “You’ve been through a horrible ordeal, you’re so brave.”

“Shut up!” She laughed and set the timer on the oven. Just then Inias walked in, somehow looking even more vulnerable in his rumpled suit. Meg ushered them over to the couch and indicated they should sit. She grabbed an open bottle of wine from her fridge and a single glass, plopping down on the floor and shooting Inias daggers while she over-poured. “All right, so he’s here. Spill it.”

Inias looked between Meg and Castiel with uncertainty, not wanting to do this in front of Meg, but it was her home after all and he had inconvenienced her enough that he doubted she would be amenable to leaving the room. He turned his body to face Castiel.

“Did you know I used to work for your father?”

That was an honest surprise, Castiel hadn’t been expecting that. He shook his head.

“I did, I was a research student working on gene therapy and certain pharmaceutical applications that help boost a drug’s effectiveness in the different presentations. Your father was a wonderful person, all he cared about was the work, it was one of the few places an Alpha could excel in such a field. University’s don’t tell you this, but they’ll take your money, let you graduate, but that doesn’t mean anyone will hire you if they know what you are. Your father wasn’t like that. And then I met…I…met Luca.”

“My Luca? My brother?”

“Yes. He would come to the lab and sometimes your father would be too busy so we would talk. He used to sit on my desk and pester me, just talk and talk until I was too distracted to work and then tease me when I messed something up because of it. I fell in love with him immediately.”

Meg no longer looked pissed as she absently sipped her wine, she had a serious weak spot for other people’s soap operas.

“We were together for a long time, but we kept it a secret. I don’t think he was worried about what people would say, he wasn’t like that. He just wanted to have something that was separate from the other parts of his life, something that made him happy. And I didn’t want to lose my job for sleeping with the boss’s son. But then you mother started coming around, and it always turned into an argument. I never knew what they were fighting about but I got the feeling she wanted something from him he was unwilling to give. I used to come to work early, before anyone else got there and took the machines I needed. One day I went in and your father was there tearing up the place, smashing beakers, ripping up notebooks. I thought he was drunk. I’ll never forget what he said when he saw me. ‘Inias, what would you do if you saw a stranger in mortal danger, but saving him meant you would take the life of ten other men?’”

Castiel’s chest was too tight, his heart too constricted to beat properly. “What did you say?”

“I told him I would have to let the man die. Then he asked me what I would do if that man were instead someone I loved, ‘What if it was Luca?’ I hadn’t known until then that he knew about us. ‘Then I would save Luca.’ I told him, and he said, ‘So would I.’ The next day he disappeared, Luca was beside himself, I told him what had happened and it somehow convinced him that he hadn’t left by choice. I lost him after that, all he wanted was to get his father back. A week later there were men stripping the lab, we were told our grant had been rescinded and a for-profit company had bought all the research to continue in their own lab.”

“What was the name of that company?” But Castiel felt he already knew.

“Roman Pharmaceuticals. Only one person wasn’t let go, Roman Pharma hired our tech Charlie, probably to translate the data they’d purchased. Then your mother hired me. She was looking for a personal security detail. She liked that I was big and that I was an Alpha, said I’d shown loyalty to her family and that meant something, that I was never going to find a job like this out there as an Alpha. I took it.” He looked ashamed. “The money was more than I was making before, but I just thought it would keep me close to Luca.”

“And did it?” He hadn’t seen his brother in years, not since that horrible day when he and Michael had almost killed one another.

“No, he hates your mother, accused me of colluding with her for money. I tried to convince him that wasn’t the case, begged him to stay with me. He told me the only way we could be together again was if I brought his father back. So that’s what I’ve been trying to do, all this time. I’ve stayed by Naomi’s side, gained her trust, but it was all just to get Luca back.”

“So what has happened? I take it you didn’t call me here just to tell me this.”

“Your mother is a cunning woman, but she’s also an unrepentant bigot. It didn’t matter to her that I had been one of her husband’s top researchers, after a while she grew accustomed to the silent Alpha that followed her around and obeyed every order. All she sees now is an Alpha brute with no capacity for reason. She started using me for other things, spying on opponents, threatening people, delivering packages that were almost certainly illegal in some way. She had me take a man to your store in the middle of the night to install hidden cameras, she also gave me a list of people, small business owners. She wanted to know their hours of operation, patterns. You were on that list.”

“And then I was hit.”

“Most of those other people were what she called opportunity targets, if they were open her men would rough them up, if not then they would just loot the place. But she made it clear she wanted you beaten, they’d been watching you. Even if you weren’t open that night they would have waited till they could get you alone.”

Castiel wasn’t ready to trust this man enough to tell him he already knew some of this. There was always the possibility that this was some sort of ruse.

“If you implanted cameras, why did they need to watch me? Why does she send you there to look for me, wouldn’t she already know?”

“I wondered that too, but then I heard her talking. I don’t think they have anyone watching it 24/7, I don’t even think it was for you. They set it up so that they could capture something specific about your attack.”

An idea began to form in Castiel’s mind, a sense that he was holding most of the thread but needed to weave it together.

“Zachariah Adler. Do you know him?”

Inias’ eyes shifted around the room, he licked dry looking lips. Meg offered him her bottle, he took a grateful slug.

“A few weeks ago, Naomi had me take her to the kind of meeting where you might need a bodyguard. It was in a warehouse in Venice. There were four other men there, one was just another guard like myself, he was there with this corporate looking man I’d seen a few times with Naomi. The other looked like a high school English teacher, glasses, vest, corduroy pants, but there was something about him I didn’t like. He was sitting next to Adler at the table, and I couldn’t see but I’m almost positive they had him tied up.”

The oven timer beeped. “Hold on!” Meg jumped up to retrieve her taquitos, running back to her place on the floor, she made an excited _go on_ gesture while blowing on the too hot food. She was loving this.

“Adler started cursing her the moment we walked in, but she just told him he was finally going to be useful again. She had me wait in the car. I heard screaming, and an hour later Naomi returned with Adler, and suddenly they were friends. That’s when she asked him when he was planning on visiting her son and he told her the next day if all went well. Castiel, I’m so sorry, I knew what they’d done and I did nothing to help you!”

He began crying again, Castiel was always unsure of what to do with emotional displays like this from people he wasn’t close to. He patted the man’s shoulder awkwardly, might have actually said something like _there, there_.

“The guilt has been killing me. How did I let myself become this? I just wanted to be with Luca and I thought, it’s ok, it’s not real, you’re not really like this. But I am! I did those things, I helped them hurt people! And it hit me, Luca might never come back, and why would he even want me again if he did? I let the woman he hates turn me into her tool! I just wanted to tell you, to clear my conscience, and then I was going to leave. And Meg, I’m sorry I couldn’t- I thought maybe it would help me move on, but I couldn’t…”

“Oh, no worries now kiddo. I’ll even let you crash here tonight if you want, tragic dark past always gets bunk privileges!”

“Inais, I am hesitant to ask, but I wonder if you might consider staying in my mother’s employ, just for a little while.”

“W-why?” The man sniffled.

“Gathering evidence. If my mother is involved in illegal activities, then I plan on exposing her. It would be too difficult for me to gain the sort of trust she has in you. Would you help me? It might be a way to redeem yourself with Luca.”

He knew it was manipulative, but he couldn’t let an opportunity to have a man on the inside pass. And he didn’t feel too bad, Inais had started off with good intentions, but he’d done genuine harm in helping his mother with her plans. The man seemed to light up a bit with idea of redemption.

“I guess I could. What do you need me to do?”

“Watch, listen, tell me who she meets with. I want to know everything you can find out about those other two men in the warehouse.”


	12. Chapter 12

**G: Get your motherfucking ass back here with my car and handle your not-mate Alpha!!!**

**Unknown Number: Castiel it’s Sam. It would be really great if you could call us ASAP**

These were the two most recent in a string of texts. There were also calls every five minutes probably from the time Dean woke up and found him missing, and more voicemails than he cared to sort through that all rasped increasingly worried versions of _where the fuck are you?_

Castiel felt guilty about slipping out without letting anyone know his whereabouts, he was too accustomed to taking actions with no real accountability, but with everything going on, especially in light of the things Inias had revealed to him, he should have been more considerate.

Gabriel was out the door the moment he pulled up, followed by Sam and Ash who piled into the car just as Castiel got out.

“Where are you going?”

“We,” Gabriel over enunciated, “are going out to eat. You are going to get a few icepacks ready for that ass of yours. Good luck buttercup.”

He could smell the Alpha’s anger before he made it over the threshold. Ozone and gasoline, spark and tinder.  Dean was standing in the living room, waiting with the flat expression of fury.

“I assume this is the part where you yell at me.”

“You’re goddamned right it is. You care to explain?”

“Meg called me with an emergency, one that shines a bit of light onto our current dilem-“

“NO! Cas! Care to explain why you thought it was ok to just slip out the back door in the middle of the night without telling anyone! I thought someone had lured you outside and grabbed you!”

“I’m not a child Dean.”

“No but your stock and trade isn’t staying one step ahead of things that want to hurt you. I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are!”

“It’s not your job to protect me!” Castiel suddenly lost it, stalking across the room to glare right back at the Alpha with the holy fury he felt coursing through his blood. “You’ve made that perfectly clear, haven’t you?! You can’t take a mate, you can’t leave the ‘life’, you remind me time and again that this doesn’t have a chance of becoming anything real but you expect me to treat you like my Alpha! You’re not my Alpha so you have no say in what I do or where I go.”

“Oh get off it Cas! I’m not trying to dominate your modern Omega freedom, we have actual people who have tried to actually harm us out there. It doesn’t matter if we’re mated or not, I am responsible for you so-“

“Why?!”

“What?”

“I want you,” Castiel balled his hands into fists, “to tell my why you think you are responsible for me.”

Dean opened and shut his mouth, glowering because why should he have to explain this? “I just am Cas. I’ve been through shit like this before and I know how to handle a crisis better than you or the rest of these clowns.”

“You’re lying.”

He inched closer.

“Am I Columbo?” The snap of Dean’s sarcasm whipped through the space but Castiel didn’t flinch.

“Yes. You still think we can reason with this, that we have control. You act like we’re just scratching an itch to play mates and think that the minute our problems are solved you can walk away. But you’re wrong, the reason you feel responsible is because we’re already mated.”

Dean’s nostrils flared. “I don’t see a mark on you Cas, looks like you’re wrong about that.”

“There’s more than one way to mark someone Dean.”

Castiel shrugged out of his trenchcoat, crossed his arms and peeled off his tshirt.

“What the hell are you doing, we’re having an argument right now!”

Next came the sneakers and jeans and briefs until Castiel stood naked and still livid, the scents in the air bleeding and confused. Ozone and mace, gasoline, woodsmoke and sugar and clove.

“Your choice Dean.” It was too bitter to be taunting. “We can argue if you want, or you can fuck your Omega right here on the floor.”

“You’re not my Omega.” He grit through his teeth, as if anger could fortify his will, cool the erection swelling a thick, traitorous line in his jeans.

“If that’s so then you should have no trouble resisting, hmmm?”

Dean had a fairly solid history of humans and non-humans alike rushing him in aggression. But none of them had ever been naked before, so he would probably be able to justify why Castiel got the drop on him so easily without feeling too embarrassed. Castiel had never mentioned the fact that he took ten years of jiu-jitsu when he was young and his muscles responded with ease, sweeping Dean’s legs as he drove his weight backwards, gripping fistfuls of Dean’s shirt to pin him down. Castiel straddled the Alpha’s hips in a flash the moment his back hit the floor. One hand found the dip at the base of Dean’s throat, the pressure on the bone meant to restrain, not choke, but the whisper of it was there. The shock was fading out fast and it would be no more than a second before Dean was of a mind to toss him off, but Casitel was quick. His other hand reached around to push a long pointer finger deep inside his hole, letting the little sound of his pleasure buy him another second of shock.

“Cas?”

The word just barely passed his lips before Castiel plunged his wet finger into Dean’s mouth, pressing the slick against his tongue and gently fucking the digit between those plush lips. He leaned down and whispered deadly in Dean’s ear, not missing the rapid fire breaths, the self-strangled sounds Dean held firm just below Castiel’s palm.

“If I’m not your Omega, then you are free to get up and walk out of this house.” And he shifted off Dean’s body just like that, kneeling to the side with one elbow propped on the coffee table and an expression of infuriating calm.

Dean sat up, too stunned to gauge his own level of anger. The slick coated his tongue, electrifying his salivary glands, filling his sinuses and the lining of his lungs with the potent heat of the Omega’s pheromones. His chest rumbled, growling, the Alpha tearing painfully fast through the blood rich membranes of his self-control. He was on Cas in an instant, or at least he tried. The fucker was up and vaulting the couch like it was a goddamned pommel horse, tearing through the living room and into the kitchen. The predator put its claws on Dean’s neck, squeezing his sight grey until he only saw in shades of movement and the heartbeat of his prize thrumming through the air currents.

“CAS!” He screamed, because they’d already done this, his alpha had won the chase ages ago so there was no reason Cas should be running now…

But did he win? His thoughts were heavy hewn blocks that didn’t want to fit into the neatly scrimshawed holes of whatever intellect Castiel had incapacitated with his exquisite slick.

Skidding through the kitchen, out in to the dining room, and Castiel used the tablecloth to his advantage, sliding across the table Dukes of Hazard style, knocking over a chair before using the furnishing to create distance.

“Why are you chasing me Dean?” Calm and inquiring, like a teacher prompting one of his slower students. Dean tried to dart around but the table was too long and Cas stayed just out of reach.

“Because you’re fucking running Cas!” He snarled.

“Then it shouldn’t bother you. Alphas only chase someone they’ve chosen to mate.”

Dean threw the chair blocking him to the side before lifting the whole end of the table and turning it on end it so that it barred the exit into the living room. Cas’ only option now was the door to the kitchen and Dean moved to block that too. Castiel didn’t look the least bit worried.

“You want to pin me Dean, you want to mount and breed what’s yours. Don’t you?”

Dean scowled at him but he couldn’t stop himself moving forward.

“It doesn’t matter what I want Cas. There are armies of monsters running around and too few hunters to kill them.” He crept in closer, Castiel backed away. “I can’t just settle down with a mate and pretend that people aren’t dying out there, that I don’t know how to help them.”

Castiel feinted to the right, but it was designed as a trigger, not any real attempt to escape. Dean took the bait, launching himself those last few feet to pin the Omega to the wall in the corner.

“I’m perfectly aware of that.” Castiel leaned back in the little space given began to finger himself in earnest.  “But I don’t think I care. I want you. I see you and I see my mate. I’m not asking you to give anything up, we can figure it out. ” He pulled his fingers from his body, shiny with slick and spicy with his scent. Dean’s eyes dilated more, glazing over even as he set his teeth hard against what was happening to his own body. Castiel trailed a wet finger over his own lower lip before parting his mouth slowly, tip of his pink tongue running up the sweet inner surface of his pointer before curling back into his mouth to taste himself. Dean growled, snatched the Omega’s hand, held it there, panting through flared nostrils as he continued to try and fight off what his instinct wanted desperately to do. He couldn’t win. Whimpered pitifully before shoving those long fingers into his mouth, sucking desperately at the divine fluid that hit his bloodstream like hard liquor.

“Oh fuck Cas….you don’t know how much you kill me.” He said in between sucking and laving the Omega’s fingers with his over eager tongue. “I want you too, Christ do I want you. But I can’t ask that of you, you don’t know what it’s like out there. I can’t fuck up your life by dragging you into mine, you’re too good for that.”

With a bolt of ferocity Dean wasn’t expecting, Castiel pushed him back hard, glaring. “You selfish bastard, you’re not even willing to try? I’m never going to want anyone as much as I want you and it scares me! But if you plan on damning me to a life without you, then fuck you if you think I’ll suffer that alone.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if you plan on leaving me with a whole in my life where my Alpha should be, then I’ll just have to content myself with someone else. Some other Alpha maybe, with green eyes so when I bear his pups there’s a chance one of them will carry some small trait that lets me pretend.”

He stalked out of the room, trailing the cloud of anger, powdery sadness, humid lust behind him.

And Dean felt the cooling reserves of his self-imposed reasons melt back to bare metal and explode.

“NO!” he roared so loud it hurt, loud enough to frighten off this imaginary Alpha rival that would try to claim his Cas. He tore after him into the kitchen, but Castiel wasn’t running. He was standing at the back door, staring out. Was this Alpha out there? Dean wondered, half insane. He grabbed securely at Castiel’s naked hips and yanked him from the door, hauled him up onto the counter, shoved up between his open knees to capture him. No one else would have him. No one but Dean.

“You can’t Cas, you can’t do that!”

“Why Dean? Why can’t I have a mate, a family?” His voice rumbled dangerous and low, cold glitter of unshed tears making his beautiful blue eyes spark.

“Because you’re mine! Those are my pups! You’re—“

_You’re my mate._

Fuck it was true. His body, his instincts had known from the first time he’d knotted the man. Before that even, the press of his hand to Cas’ shoulder, standing over the bloodied specimen of his life’s work and swearing to protect him from it.

Dean held Castiel closer. “I fucking need you! I need to know you’ll be safe! I couldn’t live if…”

Castiel yanked Dean’s head back by the hair from where he’d buried his face in his chest. “I don’t want to live without my mate. And I’m not weak Dean, I would face any monster out there if it meant I was by your side.”

Castiel could watch the battle inside of Dean unfold across the plains of his face, strategy and need. His Alpha was so stubbornly determined to suffer.

“Your loneliness is not a strength. This is, us. Do you trust me?”

Trust was volatile currency in his world, but when he looked up at Castiel, it was shattering to realize how much he had given over to the Omega without even knowing it.

“Yeah Cas….yeah I do.”

They crashed into each other, lips on fire and determined to take, to own. Castiel wrapped his legs tight around Dean’s waist, hands gripping the sides of his face to hold the man in place so he could assault him properly. Dean’s hands where everywhere, it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough and he had been such a blind ass to think he could walk away from this. His Alpha had known better.

Castiel tore off Dean’s tshirt while Dean worked his sweatpants off with quick efficiency. He hauled the Omega up, wrapped as he was around his body, spun, crashed into the cabinets because they refused to stop kissing. Castiel grunted at the impact, bit into Dean’s lip and ground their erections together hard. They careened into the fridge, jars rattling inside, and slid to the ground, Dean’s back against the cool stainless steel. Castiel sat in his lap, rocking forward, then guiding Dean’s cock straight into his hole while his other hand grabbed Dean’s jaw and forced his head to the side.

Omegas didn’t typically mark an Alpha. It meant something deeper, something that frightened Castiel a little even as he sunk his teeth down hard, letting his Omega take control. Dean arched back at the dual ecstasy of those twin points of his body being held and squeezed and owned by his Omega.

“ _Oh fuck_! Fuck Cas!” He gasped as he began to plunge up into his mate, thrusting in a frenzy, bouncing Castiel’s ass back down on his cock as hard as his arms could manage. “I love you! Oh goddamn it- ahh- ahh-AHH- - I fucking love you Cas!”

He crushed his Omega to him, wrapped his whole hand around the back of Castiel’s neck and held him in place to take his bite. Neat white teeth wedging down through the dermis and into the muscle. The blood on his tongue igniting the whole looming mechanism, setting to whirr ancient cogs he’d never known were buried there, simple utilities he sensed as an idea of machine parts, separateness fitting teeth to groove, gears coming to life in a newly built whole.

And he hadn’t even realized he was coming. They both were. Castiel’s spend splashing across his chest, dripping over his straining cock. Dean only bore down harder with his jaw as the orgasm ripped through him, it was satisfaction that he thought might kill him it was so good.

Cas was finally his.

Castiel sat up, sinking a little deeper on Dean’s knot. He kissed his mate, blood on their lips and smeared red down their chins, passing the taste of them together back into each other’s mouths.

“You’re mine Dean.” He whispered.

“My mate.” Dean kissed at the punctured flesh on Castiel’s neck, loving how permanent it looked, and he had one to match.

A sense of wellbeing dropped its heavy veil over both of them and Dean sighed, pulled Castiel tight to his body and held on.


	13. Chapter 13

Pile of Castiel’s clothes in a heap on the living room floor.

Couch shoved back at a sharp angle.

Dining room completely turned upside down. Table barricading the entrance.

Kitchen reeking of sex and blood.  Oh, even better, bloodied smears all over his refrigerator door.

Dean’s pants crumpled on the tile, shirt in the sink.

And…was that _slick_ on his countertop?

“ _Where the fuck are you cunts_?!” Gabriel stalked out of the kitchen ready to kick the asses of this pair of slutty Goldilocks .

But they weren’t in the bedroom, and the stripped mattress could only mean one thing.

Sam and Ash followed as Gabriel tore through the upstairs. They found them in the bathroom, curled up on the floor, knotted together and half buried in a mountain of pillows, blankets and sheets.

“Oh Jesus.” Sam muttered.

“Son of a _bitch_! You’re nesting in my bathroom!”

“Mazel tov!” Ash giggled.

Castiel blinked awake while Dean growled and tried to borrow his mate deeper into their makeshift nest.

“You have….” Gabriel tried to sigh himself back into patience. “One. Hour. To pull it together. Then I want clothes, downstairs, _my kitchen cleaned_ and then we’ll talk.”

“Don’t you think we should tell them about what I—“

“No Ash, those are surfaces I eat off of. Kitchen first.”

\---

Dean had a mate.

He should be terrified. No, he _was_ terrified, but it was completely subsumed by the chest bursting happiness he felt watching Castiel dress in a pair of jeans and one of Dean’s flannel shirts, sleeves rolled to the elbow, top buttons left tantalizingly open. He could see a half moon of his mark, swollen and beginning to scab over and he felt his own mark itch beneath the cotton of his tshirt.

There was a lot to work through, he still didn’t know how to reconcile his life as a hunter with a mate, but lots of hunters had mates. His parents, Bobby, Ellen. Like Cas had said, they would figure it out.

Sam had tried to help them clean the disaster they’d made of the downstairs, but Gabriel refused to let him. He pushed the Alpha into an armchair and crawled up onto his lap with a Mimosa, arching his eyebrows imperiously at the mated pair wiping down the countertops with bleach. Sam couldn’t help smiling and kissing at Gabriel’s neck. It was good to have someone else around that could give his brother shit when he deserved it.

Ash hauled boxes into the house, setting them on the dining room table.

“Your computer,” Castiel noticed for the first time that Ash’s previous set up was no longer there. He’d been a little distracted before.

“Yeah we had to drill the old girl out behind the Pancake Hut. I set off a kill switch,” he shrugged sheepishly. “But I got you this, should be most of it.”

Ash pulled a thumb drive out of his pocket.

“What’s on it?”

“Your mother’s motherload. Wanna see?”

\---

They had all watched the videos twice before anyone said anything. Crowded around the outdated laptop that Gabriel had purchased from an electronics store papered in Going Out of Business signs. He didn’t know much about computers but when something Ash saw freaked him out enough to pack up his gear and break out the power tools, Gabe knew better than to let this continue on his personal machine.

Video 1, as it was labeled, showed the night of the robbery from the high angle viewpoint of the hidden cameras. Castiel watched himself lock up the store and leave, the dark lonely scene jarring to life a few minutes later when the four men burst in, dragging his limp body behind them. It made his blood pound hot in his veins. Dean’s arms circled his waist and didn’t let go. Video 2 was exactly the same, in fact it took a while before they noticed a difference.

“His face.” Castiel noted.

Ash whistled. “That’s some good work man.”

Exactly the same, except in this version, the shadows were darker, significantly so around Zachariah Adler’s face. They hadn’t blurred him out, hadn’t completely obscured his features, it was subtle. Just enough that it would be impossible to identify him with certainty from just this video alone.

“He chose version two.” Castiel mused. “They blackmailed him.”

“But then how’d they get him to do it in the first place? More blackmail? Why not just use-“

“Because of this.” Sam cut him off, reaching over Ash’s shoulder to start up the first video again. He fast forwarded it until he found what he was looking for then paused, the frozen image of Zachariah just as he loomed behind Dean, knife in hand and face fully exposed to the camera.

“See that?” Sam circled a finger around the grainy features of the man, bringing attention to the glow of his pupils. Castiel hadn’t paid it much attention before, but none of the other people’s eyes looked like that in the dark…

“He’s a fuckin’ shifter.” Dean spat.

“Whoa, Adler’s a shifter?” Ash ran a hand through his mullet.

“No you burnout, he’s the shiftee!” Gabriel knocked him upside the head.

“That’s what happened in the warehouse.” Castiel  slumped back in his chair. “Inais couldn’t understand why he was restrained and cursing Naomi one minute and then scheming with her the next. There were two other men there, a corporate type he’d seen before and another one, looked out of place. I’d be willing to bet that was our shifter.”

“Makes sense,” Dean leaned in beside him, hand coming to rest on Castiel’s knee. “On the scale of friendly librarian secretly feasting on human hearts to sentient blob of goo devouring Main Street, they score pretty high in the hard to spot range.”

“Ok,” Sam took a sip from Gabe’s beer and passed it back to him. “So we have a Senator that uses her ties to an ultra-conservative Omega rights group getting suppressants banned in this state. This same group, likely with her assistance, has succeeded in getting these same suppressants banned in ten other states with more likely to follow. She then orchestrates robberies of places falling outside the current law that makes it look like Alphas are at fault. One or more of which use a shifter appearing as a former OAP donor that are then captured on film so that she can blackmail him, likely threatening to release footage of the crimes showing his face. The shifter is arrested, photographed, released on bail, disappears with the other criminals only to have his mug shots and likely fingerprints switched out by a cop on her payroll after the fact. So going on what we have from those emails, the Adler popping up on the news now is the real MaCoy, with the shifter walking around in a brand new face.”

“Oh well I got that covered.” Ash clicked away and a photo popped up of a man in his forties grinning at the camera. He was a decent looking man, maybe handsome when he was younger but roughened with age in way that reminded the Winchesters of their father. Cleft chin, tanned leathery skin, greying hair, he could wear a police uniform, a three piece suit, a workman’s clothes without drawing undue attention. Thank God for this photo, they never would have found him otherwise. “Meet Azazel.”

“That asshole is mine.” Dean growled at the picture and nobody tried to argue.

“What I’m still trying to understand is why Naomi is funding an opposition campaign along with a lawsuit against the legislation. Those things are costly, and long.” Gabriel took over the mouse and began to click through the files.

“What else did you find?” Sam asked.

“Uh, well bank transfers, no shocker there. And some medical records from a homeless shelter that I traced back to a Roman Inc. shell corporation. And some other stuff that I thought was encrypted but it’s not. I don’t know what it is man, because they don’t teach Klingon in high school.”

“Let me see the medical records.” Sam leaned over the shoulder not currently occupied by Gabriel.

He scanned through them, his face growing darker by the minute.

“These are drug tests. Roman Inc. was using the free clinic at the shelter to run tests on….it looks like starting in 2008 it was several drugs but as recently as last year they were only testing two. But it- -shit, I can’t tell what they were doing if I don’t know what I’m looking for!”

“Well it ain’t for a new chewable vitamin, I can bet you that.” Dean snorted.

They did their best to read over Sam’s shoulder, but it was nearly impossible to decipher the doctor shorthand blurred through the filter of a scanner.

“I don’t know, this doesn’t make any sense.” Sam hummed. “They’re testing something called SPC3 and something called RDX11 at the same time, but they’re getting the same outcome. I mean the blood tests are identical. Whatever these drugs are, they do the exact same thing.”

“Ok, so they’re trying to see which one works best.”

“I’m not sure that’s it. You have a daily oral ingestible and a one-time injection and it looks like the majority of their subjects develop a low grade fever along with a hormone spike that would be cause for concern, but….but it looks like they’re adjusting the drugs to _keep_ that result.”

Castiel went ridged. It was right there, at the edges of his mind, he could almost see it but it was still just a compilation of flashes, a lightning storm made of memories he’d never thought were important before.

His father’s lab.

Holiday’s home from college puttering around, listening to his father talk about his latest findings and imagining himself in a few years wearing a matching badge and lab coat. Working at his side, helping people.

_It’s monstrous, you can’t really think I would do something like that!_

His mother’s phone calls, the way her voice would change from dark to bright when she noticed someone listening.

_Give it some thought, Joshua, would it really be so bad?_

_You’re asking me to play God!_

_I’m offering you the chance to change this world for the better._

“Ash,” his voice was shaky. “Let me see those other files.”

\---

The type of work he used to do, back when he first got out of college and thought the only thing in the world he wanted to do with his life was work by his father’s side, meant that he recognized the documents immediately for what they were.

Drug compounds. The chemical and synthetic components mapped out in a cryptic language that made up the framework for a specific pharmaceutical application. There were notes on several trial compounds, but it looked like two had made the cut.

Suppricelliate 3 was a new form of Alpha suppressant. Similar to Allerapax but with better levels of long term stability. The correlating documentation told that this product was ready to go to market immediately as an alternative suppressant option that, because it did not hide Alpha scent markers, but proved better at modulating behavioral undesirables, would be hailed as an improvement should Adler’s counter suit succeed, or possibly find its way to market as an alternative option that skirted the restrictions should he fail.

Rotodicloxon 11 was a hormone therapy injection for early to late adolescent Alphas. It didn’t mute or disguise presentation the way suppressants did, it blunted testosterone and pheromone levels in Alphas at the time in their life when they were at their most volatile. Prisons were filled with young Alphas that had been locked up for a minor infraction due to court opinion that any crime perpetrated by a young Alpha was motivated by hormone induced rage. In this day and age, an Omega could hit a cop car and get off with a warning, but an Alpha stupid enough to argue a traffic stop could be hauled out of the car, beaten and jailed for assaulting an officer that would later testify that he was in fear for his life.

Castiel read and read until he found it. And the moment he saw it, the bottom of his stomach dropped out.

Prednozellium Bifrohexillate.

Both drugs had it.

He knew this drug, back from those days in the lab. Back then his father had called it Zellhex.

_You have to take disappointment in stride, Castiel. Not everything can be a winner._

_But you worked so hard, surely there must be some other application it could be used for. How could you just throw this all away?_

_You already answered that question kiddo…._

“Jesus Christ. I know what they’re trying to do.”

\---

“You can’t be serious.”

“Gabriel there is no other option here. We have to stop them before this goes into production.”

“You want to break into Roman Pharmaceuticals and steal Daddy’s original recipe. Honey, will you look at us? The A Team we are not. We’ve got Dr. Stretch over here, Stoner Guy the hacker hillbilly-“

“Hey!”

“LA’s most glamorous lawyer, with a reality show in the works, mind you, it’s not like I’m anonymous! And the Marvelous Mate Boys. Let me guess, your powers are giving each other smoldering looks until the night guard is overcome by the sexiness and just hands over the keys.”

“We have to do something!”

“We go to the press, like I said. I know one of the anchors for GNN, he would give you his first born for this story! It would be everywhere, it would ruin them!”

“Cas?” Dean turned his mate by the chin to look at him. He could see the doubt there, the conflict. “Whatever you think we need to do, I’m with you.”

He had never known support like this could be so fortifying. Maybe before he would have caved, done as his older brother had asked and always wondered if it was enough. But Dean made him feel stronger.

“We do both. If we leave this, the formula will still be out there. Someday, someone could try to finish what they started. This is the only way we can be sure. Gabriel, you, Sam and Ash work on putting together all the evidence you can to take to your press contact. Dean and I will take care of destroying the formula.”

\---

Back then he had been naïve. His father had always told him that the only worthwhile cause in life was helping people, and he had followed the man’s advice wholeheartedly. But his father understood the other side of that. Understood that terrible things could be done in the name of progress, horrors committed under the banner of benevolence.

There was cutting edge science working on gene therapy for transitional presentation. Men and women like his father that thought it might be possible to actually _change_ presentation for those that wished it through the right drug cocktail. Zellhex was Joshua’s baby, a drug that wouldn’t just mimic the neutral markers of a Beta in an Alpha, but actually restructure pituitary output so that over time, they could _become_ Beta. There was enough stigma over being an Alpha, enough teenaged suicide when people finally presented that this would have been considered a miracle breakthrough in modern science.

But the drug was flawed, it never made it to human trials. Time and again, the outcome was always the same, a fever, a hormone spike, and then a plateau that at first they had taken for success. It worked, the subjects showing all the symptoms of a typical Beta. But then the reduced mortality made an appearance, not significant, half a percent at most, but noticeable enough that the blood tests became more targeted. That’s when Joshua discovered his failure.

It wasn’t turning them Beta, it was making them Null.

Joshua tried everything, but the results were always the same. The pinnacle of his life’s work was useless.

But not to Naomi.

She had known about the Zellhex, had been supportive of her husband’s long work hours and rambling speeches about the progress he was making. She had cheered him on as a loving wife and built campaign strategy for the day when she could leverage the good will of the man who had created this wonder drug that helped so many poor, suffering Alphas make a change they were desperate for.

And when he tried to destroy the research, she became the very thing he feared most. Someone with the means and the motivation to use Zellhex’s flaws for their own purposes.

Whip the public into a frenzy, Alpha violence all over the media, take away the suppressant and make them desperate for it. Bring it back, new and improved, and you wouldn’t be able to keep SPC3 on the shelves. And if the ban stayed in place, think how many young Alphas would opt to take RDX11 when they were young. Hell, school districts might make it mandatory, group it in with vaccinations and bar students from enrolling without proof of the shot.

And nobody would notice, not for years, not until it was far too late to change course. Generations of Alpha’s sterilized, and since presentation was passed on from the parents, with Beta the most dominant, there would come a day when the Alpha line died out.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long delay guys, had a deadline that I realized I couldn't make if I kept working on both. But now I should be back on track! Thanks to everyone for all the lovely kudos and comments!

Roman Pharmaceuticals was one branch in the conglomerate hydra of Roman Global Inc., which had a hand in not only drugs but finance, agriculture, oil, third world emerging markets, technology and standardized educational products. They had offices all over the world, but their pharmaceutical branch shared office space with their tech branch in San Francisco. With Gabe’s knowhow they got ahold of blueprints and schematics from public records and a list of employee records from some not so legitimate means. Sam really wanted to ask, but he was learning it was safer not to. The nature of Roman Inc. meant that there was no closing time, no 3am option where they could disable alarms and slip in a side entrance with nothing more than an unmarked van and a black turtleneck. It was a 24/7 operation. So despite Dean’s insistence that he ‘Bust in there and crack some skulls’, they needed another plan.

That’s where Sam came in.

“Ok, Ash, you know what you need to do?”

“Got my list man, just need to make a few calls.”

“Great. Dean?”

“Yup.”

“And that means low profile Dean, so we’re talking zero body count.”

“That was an all-inclusive yup, Sam.”

“Sure.” He turned to Gabriel.

“Sam, sweetie, self-important asshole is printed on my business cards. You all just keep your mouths shut and watch me make the hourlies dance.”

“Cas, you sure you can get Inias to play ball?”

“You don’t have to worry , Sam. He will comply.”

“Ok, then I guess we have our jobs. Gabe and I will meet you guys in three days.”

\---

Dean retrieved his baby from Rufus along with a small arsenal of what he called lady guns, small things, slim enough to hide under a suit. He bitched about it the whole way over to the address Ash had given them until Castiel reminded him that discrete weapons like this hidden under a two thousand dollar suit were exactly what an international spy might use.

Cas always knew how to make him feel better.

With a trunk full of electronics and enough fire power to arm a small militia, the three of them drove north through endless almond farms and brittle brown hills, following the container trucks and the other road trippers that had no interest in doubling their time with scenery by driving up the coast.

The highway bedraggled trio met up with Sam and Gabe in the city, holed up in the presidential suite, of all things, at the top the Ritz-Carlton.

“What? It’s strategic!” Gabe defended, Dean and Cas wearing matching looks of distain. “We have key card security on the elevator and a balcony that overlooks the financial district! We could _zipline_ to Roman Inc. if we wanted.” And he wasn’t wrong, the asymmetry of the glittering glass building rising up ahead of them like an obsidian scalpel.

The other benefit of shelling out obscene amounts of money for this room was that not a single person questioned them about the odd group of flannel enthusiastic men hauling boxes up to the suite, or the Armani fitting specialist riding up the elevator next to yet another order of burgers and beer.

“That’s weird.” Ash mumbled from the dining room table. He had been working his magic to build out their cover from inside the Roman Inc. network from the moment they got here.

“What’s weird?”

“Nothing it’s just….nothing.”

Long minutes went by.

“Um, guys? I think we have a problem. Someone knows we’re coming.”

\---

It was a chain diner, 50s kitsch theme, glitter infused vinyl and jukeboxes at the table filled with oldies. The tourists liked it but it was too brightly lit for Dean’s taste. He slouched in the booth watching the door, while Sam kept an eye on the back and on Ash fidgeting nervously at the table behind them. Dean sipped his coffee, his other hand resting in his lap, ready to close on the gun in his waistband. Sam was carrying too, and for a moment it felt like old times.

They had no idea what they were looking for, but it was miles off from the petite girl in a She-Ra ringer tee with purple tights under tiny cut off shorts and a pair of half destroyed black boots. She went right up to Ash and swung her canvas bag around to dig inside and throw an envelope onto the table. Dean had a hand on his gun and Sam was half out of the booth when their waitress came back to refill their coffee, momentarily blocking the way.

“Dr. Badass, I presume.” She tried on a cocky smile, but the brothers could tell she was nervous, a tremor in her voice.

“You the one that torched my back door and then made me another one?”

“I torched it cause they would have been on you the minute you tried to use that crude piece of shit. And I let you in so that I could see what you’re up to. I think we can help each other.”

The brothers looked her up and down, but she didn’t look like an immediate threat. With a nod of agreement they were both up, Sam stepping behind her to discreetly hold her arms, his size blocking the view, while Dean slid into the booth next to her and started to pat her down where she stood.

“Hey, easy there fellas!” But she didn’t raise her voice much. “You’re barking up the wrong tree!”

“She’s clean.” Dean said as Sam took the bag from her shoulder and passed it to his brother.

“So we’re good? I don’t need to bend over and grab my ankles?”

“You need to start talkin’ is what you need to start doing.” Dean shifted over in the booth and she took a seat next to him, Sam across from her.

“Here,” the woman said to Ash, then shifted around in her seat to tug at her clothing, revealing a very detailed tattoo on a portion of her body that was probably inappropriate for a family style diner.

“Is that…?” Sam squinted and cocked his head.

“Yup, slave Leia riding a twelve sided die.”

“Holy shit! I know you, you’re the Red Queen!” Ash hooted then slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah, thanks for the discretion.”

“Who?”

“I thought you got busted man!”

“Almost busted, I’ve been flying under the radar lately. You can call me Charlie.”

“I’m Ash, this is Sam and Dean. So what the hell are you doing working for Roman Inc.? Doesn’t that, like, go against everything the Red Queen stands for? What about all that kill the beast shit you got into with ConAgra a few years ago?”

“Turns out the best place to do that is on the inside, and a girl’s gotta eat, right? They basically pay me to hide all their dirty secrets from people like me.”

“That is so sweet, you got-“

“Alright, we get it, you’re awesome.” Dean interrupted. “Now mind telling us why we’re here?”

“Well, Dr. Badass here managed to slip into the company room scheduler and book a meeting room for one Dr. Walker and his lawyers to meet one of the directors of vendor relations about a contract, and nobody would have noticed this originated from a terminal outside the company except _then_ he tried to set up a backdoor to steal the key codes for the locks on the drug lab which is right down the hall. You guys are so lucky it was me that caught you. So now we deal.”

“What is it you want?” Sam asked.

“Easy, I’ll get you in without setting off any alarms, and you bring me Peaches.”

\---

Walking through the lobby, the four of them got more than a few stares. There’s a power in this, Dean thinks. He’d thought Gabriel was just being fussy when he’s had them fitted for suits, but the brothers Winchester and Novak look untouchable, immaculate. The cubicle jockeys in their two for one ensembles and over large white shirts know the signs of a superior in their midst. They part smooth and silent as cool water cut by the fin of a shark. That’s what they are, a pack of sharks ready to sever one of Roman Inc.’s many limbs.

“Novak to see Mr. Donovan in Brand Development.” Gabriel barely looked at the lobby security officer, scrolling through his phone and frowning. The man confirmed them quickly and ushered them through the turnstiles.

On the 18th floor, they were met with another reception desk. The woman here seemed far less easily swayed by Gabe’s presumptuous indifference, requesting identification with bored authority, which they were prepared to show thanks to Ash.

“Oh but they put you in 1805? That’s the worst room, let me call Mr. Donovan and have it moved someplace with windows.”

“No need for that,” Sam leaned over and cooed at her. “We don’t want to be difficult.” He gave his most charming smile to the woman, who was twice his age, but Sam had dimples and a sweetness in his eyes that was catnip for ladies like Sophie. He tilted a framed photo up for better inspection, just barely brushing her hand as he did so. “Are these your children? They’re so cute!”

“Grandchildren, actually.” She giggled.

“Looks like you’ve been replaced as the Face of this mission.” Gabe muttered to Dean.

Castiel furrowed his brow.

“I don’t understand.”

 

Sam winked at Sophie as the door to the conference room closed, but not before she’d offered them food, beverage, limo service for the ride back and possibly the virginity of her remaining single daughter.

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Donovan swept through into the room a minute later. “I don’t recall making this app-- _urgh_!”

Dean reholstered the gun he’d just used to pistol whip the man from behind, and in moments he and Sam had his hands zip tied, mouth taped, body dumped in a heap in the corner.

“You are very…” Castiel swallowed hard. “good at that.”

Dean pressed up against Cas with an evil little smirk, this midnight blue suit Gabe had chosen for him was doing things to Dean.

“You like watching me get rough?”

“Does it make me a bad person if I say yes?”

“Will you two quit it for ten minutes? Jesus!” Gabriel butted in between them. “You ready Cassie?”

“Yes,” he nodded solemnly. “Very ready.”

Dean took point, leading the way down the hall with Cas behind him and Sam taking the rear. Gabe stayed behind to secure the unconscious Mr. Donovan.

Employees wandered the hall, some eyeing the unfamiliar men, but none of them saying a word. At the end of the hall was a set of wide glass double doors, a blinding white corridor beyond.

Everyone held their breath as Dean swiped the keycard. The lights cycled.

A managerial type in a coffee stained tie passed by, looking them up and down and each of them mentally decided on where they’d hide the body. Castiel’s new at this but he would go with a stall in the nearby bathroom.

The door clicks open.

The lab feels like another world. Only a few short turns down blank white corridors and they come to a wall of glass, beyond it a room filled with several rows of computer terminals, tables filled with strange, serpentine glass tubes, bulky, unknowable appliances whirring and flashing. And three techs in labs coats, each hunched over a table. Dean gives Castiel a look before swiping the key card, unlocking the lab door and stalking into the room. Sam is right behind him. They fan out just as Castiel slips into the room. Dean grabs the largest man from behind, pressing the barrel of his gun right up against his cheek, Sam comes around to face the other two, a man and a woman, aiming calmly at each, freezing them in their place before they can even register what’s happening.

“There anyone else here?” Dean growls at the man.

“N-n-no. We’re all that’s- we’re the only ones here.”

“If you lie to me Poindexter, if you got buddies in the back, I’m going to put a bullet in one of your joints for every person I find. You got me? First up will be good ol’ right kneecap.”

“NO! There’s no one else here! I swear!”

“Everyone face down on the ground, hands behind your head.” Sam indicates with his gun and the three techs slowly spread themselves out on the cold tile floor.

Castiel sits at a terminal and punches out a text to Charlie, carefully typing out the number on the bar code sicker he finds on the side, just like she’d told him to do. Within less than a minute the screen comes to life, the log in bypassed by an invisible hand.

He’s in.

It takes him more time than he’d like to find all the files, but Inias had given them some idea of how they’d organized them in the past, and coupled with his own memories of his father’s labeling habits he’s able to track down everything in less than twenty minutes.

And one by one he erases it all.

Sam and Dean keep the room locked down with such ease, Castiel’s sure that he should feel some measure of apprehension at his mate’s talent for crime. But it only made him feel safe. Righteous. It made him feel an odd affinity for this sort of business. Past the expensive clothes and the sleek modern room and the polite fear which kept their captives in place, was a job the brothers knew how to do and do well. Clicking away, deleting file after file, Castiel would steal glances at his mate, his new family, and could see them as they may have been years ago. Two brothers with guns drawn, dirty boots and back alleys, breaking every law they had to in order to save people.

He scrubbed the last file.

“Where do you keep the samples?” Castiel rolls the head tech over and drops a knee to his sternum, pulling his own gun from the small of his back and pushing it up under the man’s chin. He’s not even sure the safety’s off but this guy doesn’t need to know that. “I want everything with Zellhex. And if you can’t help me I’ll have no more use for you.”

“No no! I can help you! They’re all in the back. In the…in the cold storage, right over there.” He strains his eyes over to a corner.

“And your test animals. I will need those too.”

“We only bring in what we need, we only got one right now, I swear! It’s in the back too.”

Castiel pushed off and strode around the corner, into the back section of the lab with Dean right behind him.

“Where the hell did that come from?”

“What do you mean?” Castiel doesn’t wait for Dean, reaches into the man’s pocket and grabs the keycard to open the door himself.

“Ummm….the bad motherfucker routine? Not sure if I should be intimidated or turned on.”

“Right now you should be finding Peaches. And if we manage to stay out of jail, _then_ we can spend some time finding out what turns each other on.”

Peaches is a one year old tawny rabbit that looks like it had been spit out of the other end of a lawnmower and into an acid bath before getting put in its plexiglass cage. Dean is not happy about the fact that the cage is too large to take with them, he’s forced to fold his jacket and wrap the thing up like a terrified burrito.

“You got everything?”

“Yes, everything’s been ‘flushed’.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to stop with the quote fingers.”

The two of them round the corner, and for a moment both of them are confused as to why Sam has his hands on top of his head.

“Well this is certainly interesting.”

Azazel moves from behind Sam, his own weapon still trained on the taller man’s head. He indicates that both men should drop their weapons, which they do slowly along with the rabbit.

“You know,” Dean scratches his forehead and he can see Sam understands. “Your new body looks just as douchey as the last one.”

“And how would y-“

Sam swings around and knocks the gun from Azazel’s hand. The shifter is stunned but only barely. A quick jab and a knee to the liver drops Sam like a ton of bricks. Dean and Azazel go for their guns simultaneously, but it’s Castiel that vaults across the room to tackle the shifter before his hand can touch the handle.

He hadn’t been prepared for how strong the man would be. They look to be about the same size, but the monster overpowers him immediately, picking him up bodily and tossing him across the room and into a set of shelves. Glass bottles crash around him, the noise of it distracting him from the pain of the impact for only a moment, and then everything lights up in agony. His eyes burn, there’s blood pouring into them. Dean is screaming, shooting, throwing himself at Azazel because the bullets do little to slow the man down. Castiel hauls himself up just as Dean is knocked back hard against a lab bench, gun sliding from his fingers over the counter and out of reach. Sam has made it to his feet and with Castiel moving in on him as well, Azazel doesn’t like his odds. He bolts out the door.

“Sam!”

“I’m on it, go.”

Dean tears out the door, but he hadn’t planned on Castiel following him. The two of them barrel down the hall after the fleeing shifter. Azazel makes it to the emergency exit, setting off the alarm as he yanks open the door. Shit, more people would be coming, Sam had better move.

Dean can’t let Azazel get away. His vision goes red and his fingers itch to claw their way into the soft belly of the man that hurt his mate.

“Stay here!” He shouts at Castiel as he propels himself down the stairs after the monster. Castiel stops at the railing, watching first Azazel then his mate wind down the spiral. He’s not sure what comes over him, maybe it’s the thought that his mate is in trouble, that this man would likely kill them both if given the chance. Mostly it’s the immeasurably brief realization that this is Dean’s world.

This is what it means to be a hunter.

Castiel climbs the railing, and he jumps.


	15. Chapter 15

The unexpected was standard fare. Things with teeth and a taste for human butchery, things that need preparation and planning and bootstraps of goddamn titanium because they _will_ knock you down and you just have to be ready for that. But nothing on this earth that Dean has ever come across can prepare him for the sight of his mate descending from on high like the motherfucking angel of ass kicking to tackle the fleeing shifter and send them both rolling in a jumbled wreck down the rest of the staircase before slamming into the far wall of the landing. He can smell the ammonia of pain, Castiel’s pain, bright as a flare against his sinuses. He’s still careening down the stairs, Azazel had had a decent enough head start, but time slows down. Dean can feel every hair on his body stand on end, his senses open to a point of stinging clarity and every step closer feels miles away still. Azazel comes out on top, confused but with savage instincts clicking into place, ready to claw and crush the dazed man beneath him. Azazel brings a fist up to punch him once then wrap a hand around Castiel’s neck while he fumbles for something at his side.

Just a few more steps, but it’s not—

One shot rings out, and Dean feels his heart crushed for a full breath.

Castiel lay stretched out pale against the dirty floor, eyes even bluer somehow and staring up in surprise at Dean. Azazel rolled off, staggering to his feet just as Dean leaps the last few steps to land beside his mate, scanning in rapid sweeps for the bullet hole. It’s only when Castiel raises the gun in his hand that he realizes it was _Azazel_ that was shot by _Castiel_.

He does it neatly. Two long strides, the left knee kicked out to bring the shifter down right as Dean aims at the brainstem and double taps Azazel in the back of the head with a pair of silver bullets. The report of the gun ripples up and down the concrete stairwell, there’s no time to waste.

“Cas, are you ok?!”

“My ankle,” his voice comes out cracked with the strain, the shock of what just happened. “I may have broken it.” The blood on his face has congealed some, his clothes are torn. Dean’s first choice would have been to pull the fire alarm and slip out with the crowd, but there’s no way someone wouldn’t notice Castiel’s state.

“Can you stand on your other leg?”

“I think so.” He groans a bit as he pulls himself up, and it takes every ounce of nerve Dean has not to gather his mate up in his arms, soothe him, find every pain and tend to it. But they don’t have time for that.

“Good. Help me strip him.”

Castiel doesn’t ask why, he just hops over to the body, then crouches down and begins unbuttoning Azazel’s shirt. Dean takes the bottom half and in no time they have him stripped naked, clothes folded up and tied in a bindle which Dean tucks under his arm.

Seventeen flights of stairs with a hobbled mate and a dead body overhead had to be one of the most stressful things Dean’s ever done, and he’s been chased through a cornfield maze by a bloodthirsty chapter of the KKK that also happened to be werewolves. Castiel had started down first, making surprisingly fast progress by spreading his arms across and using the railings as crutches. Dean followed, but not before typing out a quick text to Sam, Gabe and Charlie.

_Get out._

\---

God bless Ash, that mullet sporting sonovabitch. Whatever tech voodoo he was rocking meant the van was waiting for them right outside the door when the two of them stumbled through. Gabe was already inside, squatting on the empty floor bed and staring at the screen of a laptop.

“Where’s Sam?”

Gabe didn’t look up.

“On his way, if I’m reading this right, thirty seconds ou- _what the hell happened to you?_!” When he finally got a look at his pale and bleeding little brother panting and laid out on the floor.

“Gravity.”

And Dean would laugh at his perfectly deadpan delivery if he wasn’t torn between throttling Castiel and striping him to get a look at the damage.

The door slid open with a bang and Sam folded himself as best he could into the van, arms cradling a shivering bundle of patchy hair and ears.

“Go!” Three of them shouted at Ash, who saluted before pulling out into traffic very slowly and very carefully, obeying every law and rebuking Dean’s request to haul ass for the far more sensible option of not bringing attention to themselves on the getaway.

They met Charlie in the parking garage she’d designated for a met up, handed off the newly rescued Peaches, and emptied the van into the waiting Impala before wiping it down.

“So I take it you hit a few bumps storming the castle?”

“Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Well handle this boys, I wiped all the video surveillance for today, so none of you are gonna see your screenshot on the news, and I took out all traces of your presence in the network, only thing that’s gonna be a hassle is Mr. Donnovan and his secretary.”

“And Azazel’s body.” Castiel chimed in.

“Well there’s nothing we can do about Mr. Donnovan, but without anything in the system to corroborate, he has no proof who attacked him.” Sam said.

“And Azazel’s still wearing someone else’s face. We took the rest,” Dean holds up the bundle of clothing destined for the nearest out of town dumpster. “So cops’ll be looking for whatever poor bastard he currently resembles.”

“And the Zellhex?” Gabe turned to his brother. “Did you get everything, Cassie?”

“Yes. There’s no way they can use my father’s formula again, everything’s gone.”

“Well fellas, this has been super fun, but me ‘n Peaches are gonna hit the road. We’re off to find another dragon to slay. Call me some time if you ever need a hand with any more federal crimes.”

\---

Castiel got his first taste of first-aid hunter style in a dingy little motel on the outskirts of Oakland. Sam determined his ankle wasn’t broken, just very severely sprained. Dean ran around gathering supplies: ice packs and whiskey and ace bandages and fast food in grease stained bags. He didn’t even make a comment about the fact that Sam had chosen to bunk with Gabriel in their own room while Ash was given a third. When they were finally alone, Dean went to his bag and pulled out a number of items.

Castiel watched him from the bed as his mate set down salt lines and chalked devil’s traps, listening quietly as he explained the purpose and method of each. When he was done, Dean brought paper and pencil and made Castiel practice drawing his own devil’s traps over and over until he could do them with ease.

“We’ll have to get you tattooed, but that can wait a bit.”

“Does this mean you want me to hunt with you?”

Dean ran a hand over his face, through his hair, tamping down the unease that was churning under the skin.

“I don’t-- you……look I don’t want you out in the field with me, not yet, and honestly Cas, maybe not ever. I’m not trying to pull some Omegas stay at home crap, but this is really fucking new territory for me and what happened today was- _never_ pull that shit again, by the way…the whole leaping off a balcony thing. Today was scary in a whole new way for me. At least with Sammy he _knows_. He’s been up against this stuff before and he knows the rules, so at least I have that. But if something happened to you because of me, because I dragged you into all this and didn’t prepare you, I’m pretty sure it would kill me Cas.”

Castiel unbuttoned his bloodstained shirt, grunting a bit when he had to shift his battered body to get it off. The undershirt came next, then the pants, boxers, and he couldn’t help a little smile at the fresh heat that chased most of the worry from Dean’s face. He rather enjoyed how easily he could distract Dean, no matter how stubborn or gruff he was being. Getting the pant leg over his bandaged ankle took some doing, ungracefully hunched over and yanking at the fabric while Dean watched him dumbly.

“What…um….what are you doing?”

Castiel spread himself out on the worn sheets of the motel bed. The bruising had come full color and the scrapes are swollen red, and he needs to lie at an angle on his side to keep weight off the worst of it, but his dick is filling out rapidly under Dean’s gaze as the soothing tendrils of his sweetness reach out between them to tease at the Alpha. He needs his mate.

Dean can’t get his clothes off fast enough.

It’s a shock to see what the fight with Azazel had done to Dean as well, the man hadn’t flinched once all day and Castiel had thought he’d gotten lucky. But there were an equal number of bruises and scrapes adoring Dean’s tan skin, at the angles mostly, knees and hips and elbows. He’s so used to this, Castiel thinks, accustomed to pain that would lay another man flat on his back, ignoring it because someone else needs him or because he hasn’t had anyone around to care for him.

That’s over now, though.

“I believe this is the part where we comfort each other.”

Dean fits himself up snug against Castiel’s back so they are spooning side by side. He drapes Castiel’s injured leg over his hip and starts to work his fingers gently into the Omega’s body, work his mouth languidly all along the line of his neck. When he pushes into him, it’s slow, but not a tease. They’re both worn and aching, but the sensations that bleed a molasses heat out from where their bodies join relieves much of the pain. Tenderly rocking into his mate, scenting the change, the calm arousal that comes over him fills something deep and vital within Dean. Replenishes some empty store, the slick and the heat and the grateful sobs of pleasure Castiel surrounds him with makes him consider, for the first time, that maybe it wouldn’t just ‘work out’. Maybe it would be better.

Hunting, life, _himself_. His knot slips into place and they both come as silently as they ever have, and Dean drifts off still tied to Cas knowing with certainty. It’s all going to be better now.

\---

“Oh, Castiel. I wasn’t told you were coming today.”

Naomi looks up at him from where she sits at her desk. There’s a half filled glass in her hand and the room smells of alcohol and sweat. He’s never seen her looking so rumpled, her silk blouse wrinkled and unbuttoned too far, a bit of her bra peeking through. Her lips are stained from where she’s worn off her lipstick and never bothered to reapply and wisps of hair have escaped her normally immaculate French twist. There are papers everywhere, and three cell phones strewn across the desk. It’s doesn’t seem she’s noticed the crutches Castiel has come in on. He lowered himself into a chair and leaned them up against the wall.

“You look stressed mother.”

“Hmm…yes, well I’m afraid I’m a bit busy at the moment. Why don’t I see if Hannah can find some time for you next week?”

“I’d like you to tell me where father is.”

She’s good, he’ll give her that. Even with her plans in disarray, she has the presence of mind to look convincingly confused.

“Castiel, this really isn’t the time. You already know this, if your father wanted to play a part in his children’s lives he wouldn’t have left us for God knows where. Did Luca put you up to this? I’d thought he’d gotten over all that-“

“I have to assume he’s still alive, you’re far too calculating to simply kill him when you could just stash him away somewhere as a contingency. And I’d say that you need a contingency right now, don’t you? Now that everything you’d taken from him has been destroyed.”

“How do you-“

The drink in her hand trembles.

“I have it all mother. Emails with IP addresses, the evidence of what Zellhex can do and how you planned on using it, and more importantly, someone willing to testify against you in court. I have a lawyer eager to prosecute and a meeting later today with a reporter at GNN who is very interested in bringing this information to public attention. ‘Career changing’ is the phrase I believe he used. He was speaking of himself of course but in these circumstances I feel they suit you as well.”

The moment draws out long and tense, every second making her paler, fear etching into her always cool façade. He hadn’t expected how much he’d enjoy this part, watching her twist on his line. He found it intensely satisfying.

“W-what do you want?” She wasn’t trying to deny it. Good, it would save some time.

“I want to know where my father is.”

“Argentina. I have a place in Buenos Aires, I have people looking after him, Castiel. I would never harm him.”

“But you would harm me.”

A bit of the steel came back into her expression. “It was for your own good. You have to understand that I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you.”

“I doubt that. Now along with the exact address of where you’re keeping my father I also want a private plane with two hundred thousand dollars cash waiting inside. I’d like it to be ready to leave by this evening if that’s alright with you.”

“Alright with me?! My own son is blackmailing me so I don’t really have a choice, do I?!” She scrawled the address on a piece of paper and all but flung it at him. “There! You’ll have your money and your plane, but I expect you to give me everything you have against me by end of day tomorrow or I will make you sorry you ever thought you could go up against me!”

She turned in her chair and began furiously scrolling through her contacts.

“Goodbye mother.”

\---

“What’s this?”

Inias looked at the paper in his hands then back to Castiel in the passenger seat. They were parked outside of his home and it amused Castiel greatly when Dean kept peeking out of the front window at the two of them, clearly on edge.

“Consider it payment up front for your testimony against my mother. That’s where they’re keeping my father. I’ve arranged for a private plane to take you there tonight along with something to help you get him out of the country and settled somewhere safe. Call Luca, take him with you.”

“Luca…..” Inias stared down at the paper again, the tremor in his voice shivering down to his fingers.

“I’d speak to him if you like, but I believe this would be better coming from you.”

He was crushed very suddenly by the significant weight of Inias’ embrace, and even from inside the car he could hear the rumble of Dean’s growl.

“You’ll have to move quickly, my mother will only be working under the assumption that this is blackmail for another two days at most. Once she realizes I have every intention of exposing her crimes we will be working under a bit of a clock.”

Castiel maneuvers himself out of the car and onto his crutches, leans down to peer into the open door.

“Good luck Inias. And when you see my father, tell him I’ll see him soon.”

\---

_One year later_

 

“Honey, I’m hooome!”

“Oh sweetie, you shouldn’t have.” Sam batted his lashes at his brother as he came into the kitchen, taking the teddy bear from Dean’s hands and hugging it to his chest with the enthusiasm of a ten year old girl. There was a pot of something simmering away on the stove that looked suspiciously full of vegetables but there were steaks out on the counter so they must have been expecting him. Cas always seemed to know exactly when Dean would arrive any time he’d been out on the road for another hunt. He’d stopped calling it spooky a long time ago, now it was something he looked forward to after being away from his mate, walking through the door knowing someone was there to welcome him.

“Yeah, yeah Chuckles. Where are they?” He snatched the bear back and fixed its little blue tie.

“Upstairs.”

Dean peeked his head into the bedroom, grinning at the sight of Castiel curled up on the bed with Claire, her chubby hand gripping his finger. He unlaced and removed his boots, shucked his jacket and flannel then tossed the wall of pillows bolstered around his daughter to the floor so that he could curl around her other side. Castiel blinked open sleepy blue eyes. Claire had his eyes, and her Alpha father’s nose and lips.

“You’re home.” Castiel smiled and his eyes drifted closed again, still not fully awake. “What is that?”

Or maybe he was awake.

“Just a little something for my princess. Look, nerdy accountant bear.” He walked the toy on its stubby legs up Castiel’s side.

“Mmm. If you keep bringing toys back every time you come home we’re going to have to build another room for them.”

Dean snorted, then pressed his lips together when the noise caused the baby to jerk in her sleep. Castiel shot him an unamused look. It was the same look he’d gotten when he brought home the mini push peddle car. He’d found it last month in the garage of an abandoned house he’d cleaned of a Rawhead den. It didn’t look _exactly_ like the Impala, but he was planning on fixing it up with some new paint and a whole lotta chrome. He couldn’t wait until she was old enough to tear around the back yard in her very own baby.

“Did you bring me anything?”

“Course darlin’, left it in the cooler downstairs. Blood and tissue samples from one very dead vampire aaaand, because I’m looking to get lucky tonight….” Dean pulled out a glass vial from his pocket and rattled it.

“Are those…..teeth?” Castiel was very much awake now and reaching for the vial enthusiastically. Dean held it just out of reach until Castiel scowled at him but still gave him the kiss Dean was angling for. Dean smirked liked he’d won, then leaned in to kiss his daughter’s plump little cheek.

Over dinner, Sam and Castiel discussed the progress of the bunker while Dean reiterated for the millionth time that he wasn’t going to ok ‘live samples’ until he was absolutely sure the thing was impenetrable.

\---

The day Castiel had sent Inias to South America was the day he’d told Dean his plan, but it had taken another week before they left LA. In that time, Castiel had, with Gabriel’s help, handed over the evidence against his mother and Roman Inc. to GNN. Balthazar was an old friend of Gabiel’s, and only too happy to offer a generous sum for exclusive rights. But he had warned them that something this big would need to be researched and vetted, it could be weeks before this made it to air and months longer still before any criminal charges might be brought against Naomi and her accomplices.

Didn’t matter, they were leaving anyway.

Castiel handed over his business to Meg, who managed to grope both he and Dean when she hugged them goodbye, and successfully convinced him when she told him they would see each other again someday.

On the long drive out to Bobby’s, Dean educated Castiel on everything he knew about hunting. Every monster, every weapon, the whole sorted history, and by the time they made it to Soux Falls, Castiel had a working outline of a plan. They found a defunct power plant about twenty mile outside of Minneapolis two weeks later, and with a few key strokes from Ash, the property had been transferred to the possession of one Robert Singer. The house was much easier to find, ten miles from the plant, no neighbors for miles and purchased with a fraction of the GNN cash. The first thing Castiel did when they moved in was run to the bathroom and wretch into the toilet.

By the time Sam came out to stay through the birth of his niece, Castiel’s research had come so far that Sam had begun talking about the possibility of staying, so excited about the implications that for the first time in years he considered getting back into the family business.

Balthazar’s expose aired the same day Dean returned home with the first set of samples, from a ghoul no less and Castiel found that rather poetic. Naomi stepped down from public office the next day. More samples followed, and by the time Claire was three months old, the bunker, as they had taken to calling the plant, had a fully functioning lab, a library to rival Bobby’s own and an underground suite of concrete rooms that would one day house the living monsters Dean planned on catching and bringing back to his mate.

He wanted to cure them.

Dean had explained it wouldn’t be possible for all creatures, ghosts obviously, demons, demi-gods, but everyone had been so busy working out ways to kill the things that go bump that no one had ever considered studying them. Sam thought it was brilliant, and spoke seriously of plans to use his medical background to help with Castiel’s work. He even hinted at the possibility of joining Dean again out there on the road when they had a workable formula to test.

Dean had never been so happy.

\---

“Get in here! It’s starting!”

Castiel was stretched out on the floor of the living room next to Claire in her bouncy chair. Dean kicked Sam’s legs off the table so he could get by, dropping next to his brother on the couch and turning up the volume on the television.

_“Your honor we would like to call to the stand…..”_

Naomi sat stone faced at a long table, surrounded by an army of lawyers that still hadn’t been able to spin the evidence in a way that might keep her out of prison. From the front row, it was easy to spot Gabriel in his white linen suit, and Sam made a shamefully girly sound of joy when his boyfriend winked at the camera. Somehow Gabe had managed to finagle a spot working pro bono for the federal prosecutor, and Castiel was uncomfortably sure that the phone calls to Sam that caused the man to go red in the face and hurry off to the privacy of his locked bedroom were coming from inside the courthouse. Leave it to Gabriel to become sexually aroused prosecuting his own mother.

The trial was on every channel, had been headline news from the moment it had been brought to light. Since then, Zachariah Adler seized on the opportunity, using the position Naomi had put him in as a puppet opposition to become an actual voice for tolerance and change. They were personally convinced it was not so much a change of heart but the growing public support of his new campaign for Naomi’s previous office that spurred the man. Far more troubling was the fact that Dick Roman had managed to clear his company of any wrongdoing, shifting the blame to a handful of internal scapegoats that were very publicly fired, and vowing to hand over all of the evidence they had reinforcing the fact that their company had been entirely unaware of Zellhex’s side effects. Unfortunately for Naomi, there was no ideology at work in Dick, only the pursuit of money, and if Roman Inc. couldn’t reap the benefits of newer, more costly drugs, then it was better to cut losses and save face. When you’re a soulless corporation, there are always other ways to make money.

Sam’s cell phone rang the moment the court proceedings finished for the day, and Dean took it as his cue to gather up the sleeping baby girl in his arms and make his way to the crib in their bedroom. He watched her for a handful of minutes, like he always did when he returned home, astounded by the love and the fear this little person inspired in him. When she’d first been born, he would wake with a start and stand over her crib, staring through the dark to make sure she was breathing. Castiel had needed to break him of the habit once he’d started poking her in the side any time she was too quiet for his liking.

He joined Castiel on the porch steps, setting the baby monitor down to accept the open beer.

“I believe Sam wants to have a talk with you later.”

“If it’s about the toothbrush thing, he had that coming.”

Castiel smiled around the rim of his bottle.

“No, I have a feeling he’s going to ask to stay here. Perhaps indefinitely.”

“Really?” It was nearly impossible for Dean to hide how giddy that thought made him.

“Gabriel and I have spoken at length about his plans after the trial. I am very sure that he loves your brother- don’t make that face- and he wants to make him happy. He’s planning on selling his home and moving his firm to Minneapolis by the end of the year. With the baby and the work we’ve been doing, Sam may very well wish to remain with us until then.”

Dean set down his beer, plucked Castiel’s from his fingers and put that aside as well. He dragged his Omega into his lap and ran both thumbs over the high arch of his cheekbones before drawing him into a slow, possessive kiss. The firm drag of his tongue painted words along the inside of Castiel’s mouth, spelled out the incalculable width and depth of his love. Lips moving against lips shish, pluck, taste. Fingers become open palms that burrow under clothes, selfish handfuls, thumbs pressing down on the puckered scar they each bear for the other.

There’s so much Dean wants to say, but it knifes too deep for him to work it to the surface. He can do this though, he can let Cas know every hope and joy and glory he feels with the focus of his skin and bone. He was never very good with words anyway.

“Love you Cas.”

“I love you Dean.”

They have their family, they have this. And if the world burned around them, that was all they’d ever need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, made it! \o/   
> Thanks for reading yall!


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